Compromise
by Lossefalme
Summary: ME2 up to ME3, follows Snapshots and Oligo. Shepard and Alenko each try to deal with their new-found situation, each trying to pick up the pieces of a life they lost when the Normandy went down. Note: More emotional exploration than action.
1. Moment

**Author's** **Note:** This will not be a retelling of the game, per se. I plan to skip over quite a bit of content and I hope that doesn't make the story too jarring. But I'd like to add more emotion and reaction to certain events in the game and show several scenes and reactions that were not shown in the game. If I do detail a scene from the game, it will most likely be altered in some way, to better fit with how I thought the characters should have acted in that situation, rather than how they really acted in the game. I hope you will enjoy my interpretation of events. :) All the basic ideas and events of the story remain intact, however. Also, just fyi, this will definitely be more of an emotional exploration than an action-packed adventure. I must send sincere thanks and kudos to my beta sinvraal, who is brilliant! And many thanks also to all of you for reading!

* * *

**Moment**

* * *

Kaidan barely had time to grip the edge of the console in front of him before the _Normandy_ shifted violently enough to cause a lag in the inertial dampeners. He stumbled as the g-forces threw him forward, nearly cart-wheeling headfirst over the whole computer display. Other crew members not lucky enough to have found a handhold in time cried out as they lost their footing and fell, sliding helplessly across the smooth floor.

Another sudden yaw yanked him backward and he lost his grip, slamming hard into the wall behind him. He cursed under his breath as he righted himself, groping for anything else to grab as the _Normandy_ again shuddered around him. Klaxons blared abruptly, and his console began flashing red. Kaidan went to the keyboard, keeping a wide stance for balance, and hit a few commands, his eyes scanning the damage readouts.

Bad. It was all very bad.

A strange feeling bloomed in the pit of his stomach. They'd been doing this for months. The _Normandy_ had survived Saren, and Sovereign, and the Battle of the Citadel, and countless geth attacks. The _Normandy_… couldn't be destroyed like this.

An explosion rocked the deck and Kaidan found himself airborne for a brief moment; then the floor came rushing back to meet him and his vision flashed white as his body jarred against the ground and rolled, landing in a heap against the supply lockers. His ears rang, his whole body ached, but Kaidan forced himself to get to his hands and knees. He lifted his head only to see wreckage, fire and burning bodies.

_Shepard._

The lieutenant shoved himself to his feet, stumbling toward his own locker. He yanked out his hardsuit, struggling to step into it as the ship continued to buck and shudder. Finally he had it, sealed it. He grabbed his helmet, shoving it on as he ran.

Twenty minutes of air left….

He'd seen the readouts. Anyone on the ship after that wouldn't survive. The crew had to get off. They had to abandon ship.

He'd almost reached the stairs to the flight deck when the announcement blared over the PA, in Shepard's voice: "All crew abandon ship! Repeat: all crew abandon ship! Get to the escape pods immediately! I repeat, abandon ship!"

Her voice clicked off, replaced once more by klaxons. Kaidan switched directions; Shepard was obviously fine. He headed instead for the one person he knew would never abandon this ship: Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau.

* * *

Kaidan watched her dart off through the fire after Joker, who had refused to budge despite all his own frantic pleading, and it was all he could do not to go after her. It took every ounce of his willpower to resist, but he reminded himself that if he were to disobey her orders now, she'd have him reassigned to a different command before their escape pod had even landed.

_Some compromise_, he thought bitterly, tearing his eyes from the hall where she'd disappeared and going to finish rounding up the rest of the crew. It was the only way she'd been able to convince herself to allow him to stay aboard the _Normandy_ after his little run-in with Rahna Bachar and the Clotanca virus. They would serve together on the same ship, she would once again be his CO, they could continue their relationship, as long as they continued to act professionally while on duty. And the only way Shepard was convinced they could maintain that professionalism was by strict adherence to non-favoritism from her, and a promise to never question her orders – based on an emotional reason - from him.

So he went now to get the rest of the crew into pods, against every instinct that screamed within him to refuse to leave her side. He was a good soldier.

And sometimes he hated himself for it.

* * *

"Go, go, go!"

The lieutenant waved the last of the crew through the escape pod's small round door. But his eyes kept drifting down the hall, desperately hoping to see the silhouettes of Shepard and Joker hobbling his way.

He saw only flickering lights and flame.

Another explosion tore through the bulkhead to his left and he ducked away as shrapnel went hurtling past his head. He heard a scream; turned back around to see one of the newer recruits lying dead on the floor.

Kaidan swallowed hard, stepping through the pod's door. He hesitated before closing it, looking down the hall again. Still nothing.

His heart throbbed so hard in his chest he thought it might break through his armor. _It's all right_, he told himself. _They can get out in the forward pod. They probably already launched it._

"Come on, Lieutenant!" a voice called from behind him. "We gotta go!"

Kaidan ground his teeth, finally ducking inside and hitting the button to close the door. He took the nearest seat, buckling his restraint harness.

_Please, Shepard. Please. Don't make it end like this._

"Brace for launch!" he barked aloud, his voice hoarse. He punched the button to release the pod with far too much force, and the little capsule shot off into space, leaving the dying _Normandy_ far behind it.

* * *

Elizabeth Shepard had considered death many times in the course of her twenty-nine years of life. First, when the batarians had raided Mindoir and she'd seen her family murdered right in front of her. Later, her military career had often forced her to consider it. The thought she might not survive had managed to weasel its way into her head on more than one occasion: fighting the threshers on Akuze, fighting the Thorian on Feros, fighting the Sovereign-implanted Saren on the Citadel.

But this time the thought of death, the notion that she might not survive, had never crossed her mind. Not when the _Normandy_ had first been hit, not when she'd realized they had to abandon ship, not when she'd walked through open space to retrieve Joker.

Not, at least, until now, as she watched Joker's escape pod arc toward the atmosphere of the planet below and the _Normandy_ blow apart above her. She knew of the old saying, the belief, that in the moment before death one's whole life would flash before their eyes, but it was not her whole life she considered in this moment.

She could hear the air hissing out of her damaged hardsuit, hear her own heartbeat pulsing frantically in her ears as she drifted, helpless, but all she could think of were the past few months. All she could feel was sadness. The _Normandy_, which had become her home, was destroyed, nothing more than a sparkling expanse of slowly spinning debris. She knew there would be no rescue for her, and she couldn't help but feel cheated. Her mission wasn't done yet. She couldn't die before it was done….

At least her crew was safe… she twisted around to look at the icy planet of Alchera as she began to gasp for air that wasn't there, her head aching, her vision blurring. Her crew was safe; they would continue the fight. Kaidan was safe…

Her heart stabbed with grief, regret. Kaidan.

_I'm sorry, Kaidan_.

She let the image of his face fill her mind, to try and block out the pain, the ripping, tearing pain.

_I'm sorry…._

His face was her last thought.

* * *

Kaidan finished applying medi-gel to the minor wounds of the crew in his pod and packed up the supplies with shaking hands. Their luck in this situation had been almost unthinkable; the planet had been suitable for landing the pods, which would lessen the chance of them becoming more target practice for the still-as-of-yet-unidentified ship. Alchera's gravity was just slightly less than Earth's, though the surface temperature was a chilly -22 Celsius and the air wasn't breathable by human standards. Still, as far as an emergency landing platform went, the planet was more than they could have hoped for. The ground was solid and the weather was nothing a hardsuit couldn't handle. The pods were climate-controlled and came equipped with gear that would allow the crew inside to survive for weeks, if needed, in virtually any environment. Compared to some worlds, Alchera was easily survivable - as long as rescue arrived before rations ran out.

The lieutenant's mind, however, gave little thought to such luck. One thought and one thought only dominated his being… the forward launch pod. It had not landed near their coordinates, and thus far neither his omni-tool nor the pod's tracking systems had been able to locate its transponder signal. Too much time had passed already… if it had been launched at all, they should have seen or heard some sign of it by now. Engineer Adams insisted it was possible that the pod's navigation system had kept it in orbit – could still be keeping it in orbit – in an effort to calculate the safest descent route.

Kaidan prayed that wasn't just the man's wishful thinking.

Adams suddenly jolted upright in his seat, pointing to the tiny amber-lit display across from him which automatically cycled environmental data. A new prompt had appeared among the endless statistics, flashing in bright green. "Look!" he shouted. "Another pod's coming in!"

Kaidan's heart shoved into his throat as he followed the man's finger to the block of small green print. He immediately brought up his omni-tool just to be sure, running the signal scanner once more.

His breath caught as the software confirmed his wildest hope: the forward launch pod.

"Communications?" he asked breathlessly, feeling his heartbeat pulse, his focus narrow.

Engineer Adams shook his head, his own omni-tool open and lit now. "No… looks like the forward pod took some damage… none of their outside systems are working. No communications, sensors, scanners, environmental probes, nothing. That's probably why we couldn't detect any sign of them until now."

Kaidan's throat tried to close on him, but he managed to ask, "What about life support?"

"Still active, Lieutenant. Climate control, boosters, all fine. Looks like their trajectory is a good one, they should be landing in a few minutes."

He forced himself to swallow, to move, standing stiffly from his seat. "Okay. I'm going to go check on them and see how they're doing, see if they need any medical treatment. Everyone else stay here, keep open communications with the other pods in range. And try to get a count of… of how many we're missing."

Solemn eyes stared back at him in the dim lighting, followed by silent nodding. He turned away from them and activated the first door of the pod's tiny airlock, then stepped through as it opened. It closed behind him and he activated the second door. He heard the pumps even through his helmet as the small space equalized in pressure, then the outside door swung open, revealing a wide stretch of frozen wasteland.

Kaidan took a deep breath and stepped from the pod. The gusting wind almost knocked him off his feet, but he regained his balance at the last second and braced himself, programming his omni-tool to give him a predicted landing zone for the incoming pod. The coordinates were nearly two kilometers away. The lieutenant started at a walk, getting used to the gravity and wind, then stepped up into a jog, and then a full-out sprint.

_I'm coming, Shepard._

The lighter gravity made him faster, but the wind and rough terrain made the distance no less of an effort. By the time he reached the forward pod's final resting place he was panting, sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades. He slid down the incline of the small crater the vehicle had made in the ice and drew up short of the still-smoking outer hull. Kaidan brought up his omni-tool again, remotely activating the airlock's external door release. The latches flew up and the door popped open with a hiss.

The lieutenant jumped inside, hauling the outer door shut behind him and eagerly punching the button to open the inner door. It felt like he stood there forever, waiting for the poisonous atmosphere to vent, the good atmosphere to cycle in, the pressure to equalize…

Finally the second door lifted, freeing a path to the pod's dark and flickering insides. Kaidan quickly stepped through, running a health scanner over Joker. The pilot had elevated heartbeat and adrenaline levels, but was otherwise fine. He turned to scan Shepard next, then realized with a shock the rest of the pod was empty.

He stiffened, his insides freezing.

He turned woodenly back to Joker and noticed for the first time the man wouldn't look at him. "Joker," he said slowly, heavily. "Where is Shepard?"

The pilot shook his head, turning his face away.

Kaidan stared at him, unable to process.

"I'm sorry," Joker rasped finally. "She was right there, but the fire… I couldn't get back out and she hit the launch button… oh God, Kaidan… she couldn't… I couldn't get to her!" The pilot yanked off his breather mask and hurled it across the pod, and the lieutenant saw the streaks of tears on the man's scruffy face.

Kaidan staggered backward, his body going numb.

_No._

Out of habit, pure desperation, he glanced to the environmental read-out, but the screen was dark. He didn't really need it anyway; no more pods were coming. Joker's was the last, and it had now been accounted for.

_No. Oh God no. _

Hardsuits were not meant for explosions the size of an entire ship, or for long-term exposure to space. Even if she had somehow escaped the _Normandy_'s blast radius, without immediate rescue Shepard didn't have a chance against the vacuum. The stranded pods had automatically sent a distress beacon to the nearest Alliance ship, but it would take several days for help to arrive.

Days Shepard didn't have.

Kaidan stumbled back out into the airlock and sagged against the wall. His armor felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. He couldn't breathe.

Joker was saying something behind him, and without thinking Kaidan reached over and closed the door. The words cut off abruptly. The lieutenant cycled through the airlock again, walking back out into the white-washed wasteland. He stood there next to the smoking pod, his chest heaving, his brain trying with all its might to deny the cold certainty growing in his gut.

_Shepard…._

There was nothing he could do for her now. He was stuck, helpless, on this godforsaken planet. Absolutely useless to her.

_I never should have left her. Never._

He looked up into the empty sky as his whole world tore apart.


	2. Alone

**Alone**

* * *

Kaidan sat on his couch in his small rented apartment on the Citadel and stared at the hub that would usually bring him a high-definition hologram of all the latest galaxy-wide news. But he didn't turn it on. He didn't watch the news anymore. He couldn't. Too many lies… too many reminders….

He just sat there, enveloped in the absolute silence, the dim lighting, and tried not to think. Tried not to _feel_.

Tomorrow marked the end of his leave. The end of the investigation into the destruction of the _Normandy_, the end of the questioning and psych evals, the end of his 'bereavement period'. During the last three months he had outwardly gotten better at the everyday motions, the smiling and nodding. Inwardly, he still felt the same. Still felt like he was trapped inside his hardsuit, alone on Alchera's frozen, hostile surface.

Tomorrow he would receive a promotion to Staff Commander. A delayed reaction to his part in saving the Citadel, now brought about by his so-called brave and quick deeds in saving most of the _Normandy_'s crew, then keeping them sane and alive during their week stranded in pods.

But he knew he didn't deserve it.

_I left her. I let her die._

The tears stung his eyes again but he clenched his fists and fought them, knowing if he gave in he'd be lost to them for hours. Someday he'd have to stop crying in the dark. Someday the black hole in his chest had to close. Someday the agony of every breath had to ease…. Right?

His door chime sounded, shattering the solitude. But Kaidan didn't acknowledge it. He didn't care who it was, he just wanted them to go away. There was a short silence, and then the chime sounded again.

And again. And again.

Then the buzz of the intercom being activated, followed by a disembodied voice.

"Alenko… I know you're in there. I really need to talk to you… it's important. Please."

Joker. The very last person Kaidan felt like dealing with. He closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath, but his hand was already moving to the table-side switch that would unlock the door. He couldn't ignore the pilot forever. And he had never heard the man utter the word 'please'. Best to suffer through this encounter now and get it over with.

As he heard the door open, he shoved himself off the couch and moved toward his liquor cabinet. No way in hell he would get through this conversation sober. He heard the muffled, faltering footsteps across the carpet; could practically feel Joker's body heat as the man came to a stop at the threshold where the entryway led into the living room, but Kaidan didn't lift his eyes. He focused instead on pouring himself some brandy.

"Wanna drink?" The forced words were all he could manage.

There was a rustle of clothing as the pilot shifted on his crutches. "Um… sure. Why not?"

Kaidan poured another glass, shoved it into Joker's hand as he passed the man, and went back to his spot on the couch. He stared resolutely at the hologram hub and considered turning it on. Anything to delay the words he knew were coming.

An awkward silence stretched out between them, until finally Kaidan reached out for the remote.

"Alenko, look," Joker blurted, and Kaidan's hand froze in mid-air. "I, um… I just wanted to come by and tell you…" He exhaled explosively. "Christ," he muttered, and then his footsteps led over to the liquor cabinet.

Kaidan turned his head a fraction of an inch, shooting Joker's back a glare as the pilot poured more brandy into his already-emptied glass. But as the pilot turned around again, Kaidan looked back to the hologram hub, picking up the remote. For some reason, he didn't push any buttons. Just waited.

Maybe he wanted to hear this after all, despite the days and nights he'd spent telling himself it wasn't necessary, that he knew how Joker must feel, that if he had to come face to face with the pilot for any decent length of time he might just deck the man in the jaw, so it wouldn't be worth it, anyway.

"It should have been me," Joker said finally, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and Kaidan glanced over to him again only to see the other man staring hard into his drink. "It should have been me left up there. That's how I planned it. It's my fault we got torn up so bad… my fault the _Normandy_ went down… my fault that Shepard –" He broke off, turning his back to Kaidan and facing the wide wall of windows that looked out onto the arching arms of the Citadel. He leaned heavily on one crutch as he downed his second glass of brandy and shook his head.

"It was never meant to happen like that," he whispered, rubbing a hand over his face and scratching at the stubble that lined his jaw. "She was getting in the pod with me. She was right there, right behind me. Then the explosion…"

Kaidan closed his eyes. He didn't want to remember. The words to order Joker out of his apartment welled in his throat, but somehow he choked them down. He felt sick and swallowed hard, itching to stand up and leave the room. He managed to resist that urge, too.

"Anyway," Joker strangled out into the silence, "I thought you should know… thought you might want to know… I'm not flying anymore."

Kaidan opened his eyes and looked to the pilot sharply, but his back was still turned, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I've been grounded. And that's… fine. It's fine. I understand. I deserve it. Just wanted to tell you that." He shuffled over and set his glass down carefully on the cabinet, then lifted his dark eyes to meet Kaidan's.

The lieutenant didn't turn away. He was frozen there in that moment, staring at the man who had taken Shepard away from him, and his chest roiled with conflicting emotions. Part of him wanted to pound Joker into a pulp, wanted to scream until he was hoarse that if the man hadn't of been so damned stubborn Shepard would still be alive.

Because that was the truth.

Kaidan felt the familiar subtle shift of gravity as his mutant neurons reacted to his anger, but he wrestled it under control. Only the great restraint he'd practiced since BAaT kept him outwardly calm and cool, his biotics tightly managed.

_It was an accident._ The logical side of him still had a voice, no matter how tiny and seemingly insignificant. It kept him from acting on any of the many scenarios that flashed through his head in that instant.

_If Shepard hadn't of been so stubborn… if she had just gotten to a pod when she first had the chance…._

_He'll have to live with that guilt for the rest of his life…_

But the anger still wouldn't let him speak. Wouldn't let him forgive. At least not yet.

Joker's face was pale and gaunt, and he shifted uncomfortably under Kaidan's unwavering scrutiny. "I'm sorry," the pilot said quietly. "I know you two were…" He broke eye contact, shaking his head again. "I'm so, so sorry. I don't blame you if you never want to see me again. I just wanted to get this off my chest. Thanks for... letting me in."

Kaidan had nothing to say. He didn't trust himself to open his mouth – the blame and accusations still clogged his throat. So he kept silent. Picked up the remote again and turned on the news. Pretended to be very interested in watching it.

Joker waited another minute or two, as if unsure of how to take Kaidan's reaction. But at last the man straightened on his crutches and threw a half-hearted salute. "Well, see ya around, Lieutenant."

Kaidan graced him with another second of eye contact before returning his attention to the TV.

The pilot hesitated a second more, then slowly made his way back to the front door, pausing there briefly. Kaidan ignored him, not allowing himself to turn around until he heard the door open and then close again.

He immediately turned off the news and exhaled, putting his head in his hands. Now why did he feel guilty for his behavior? His anger toward the man was understandable. The blame was well-placed. From the sound of it, even the brass thought so, if Joker was really done with flying.

_Joker's the best fucking pilot in the Fleet, and you know it. Whatever that ship was that ambushed the _Normandy_, no one could have flown any better against it. He doesn't deserve to be grounded._

Damn logical voice. Kaidan stood from the couch, throwing back his brandy and grimacing as its fire burned down his throat. He needed an outlet for his frustration, for his wildly running thoughts. He wanted to throw something, break something, unleash the building pressure of gravity that hummed against his nerves.

He caught the flicker of a corona from the corner of his eye and tried all the harder to suppress it. He didn't want to have to explain splintered furniture and broken windows. He didn't want any more psych evals.

Safer to stick with a hard workout and a cold shower.

Safer.

_Like getting in the pod without her._

The cry tore from his lips as he hurled his glass across the room. It struck the far wall and shattered into a thousand sparkling pieces, raining down over the carpet.

His corona was in full flare now, bright blue and writhing. He felt gravity heave and his coffee table began to shift, one end lifting off the floor.

Kaidan pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, clenching his jaw and forcing himself to take deep, calming breaths. Slowly the agony inside of him began to subside; gravity began to normalize again. But how long could he keep this up? How long until he finally snapped?

Rahna's words from months ago welled up again, words that had haunted him nearly every day since then, lurking in a dark corner of his mind: "_One day even you will slip off the edge, and everyone around you will be the ones to pay the price._"

Only he wasn't losing his mind because of his implant. Instead, he had lost… her.

Kaidan shook his head, as if he could physically shake the torturous loop of thought out his brain, and strode quickly for the door, yanking his jacket off its hook.

It was time for that workout.

* * *

Having a job and a purpose again helped.

He found that if he kept himself busy enough, he didn't have time to think about her. Didn't have time to miss her. And then, with the help of a few benzos before bed, he'd fall into a dead sleep and wouldn't even dream about her.

It helped to be away from the familiar faces of the _Normandy_. He was assigned back to the _Tokyo_, the cruiser he'd been on before his run-in with Rahna. The _Tokyo _didn't go looking for geth, or anything, for that matter. The _Tokyo_ was on Citadel duty, sitting mostly stationary to guard the hub of civilization while its races continued to pick up the pieces after Sovereign's attack.

But he didn't like to think about that, either. That made him think about Shepard. And how the Reapers were still out there, somewhere, waiting for the first opportunity to launch another attack. And about how if the new Council didn't hurry up and get their act together, and admit the Reapers were real and a threat, it would be too late to mount a decent defense, and Shepard would have died in vain.

So he worked harder, trying to do everything he could to make sure that didn't happen. He didn't take leave. He came in early and stayed late. He didn't go out to have fun. He threw himself into his job and waited… waited for the memories to fade, for the pain to go away.

Another eight months had passed before the nagging guilt finally put him in front of his personal terminal one night to write a message to Joker. He didn't _want_ to do it, but once he had learned the man had really been put behind a desk instead of a set of flight controls, his conscience wouldn't allow him to continue to add to the pilot's misery. For Joker, a desk job was hell.

Kaidan stared at the blinking cursor, his fingers hovering over the holographic keyboard. The cursor had been blinking at him for a good hour now, and he still had yet to write a word. Exhaustion pulled on his muscles and weighed down his eyelids, until he finally decided to just start typing and stop worrying about what to say.

_Jeff,_

_I apologize for the way I acted the night you came by my apartment. I was very angry. And I still am, to tell the truth. But not at you. It has taken me a long time to realize that, but I think you need to know. You can't blame yourself – no one can. No one else could have flown the _Normandy_ as well as you did against that ship – your flying is what let so many of the crew escape safely. Don't think you were responsible for Shepard – you weren't. And… I hope you get to fly again soon._

_Kaidan_

He hesitated before hitting the SEND button, rereading it several times. He considered editing it, then considered just starting all over again, but knew that would lead to it never being sent. So he hit the button, then released the breath he hadn't known he was holding.

So much for that.

He wondered briefly what the other members of the original _Normandy_ crew were up to these days. He had purposefully separated himself from them, preferring to stay away from as many reminders of Shepard as possible. Preferring not to have to have those "remember when" conversations. Garrus and Liara had attempted to contact him several times within the first few months of his reassignment, but he had never answered either of them.

He felt a little guilty for that, too. One of Liara's messages in particular seemed quite urgent, but it had come so soon after Shepard's death that he hadn't been able to bring himself to call her back. And then, when he had finally dared to do so, the number she had given him had been disconnected. He hadn't been able to track her down since. And Garrus had dropped off the map shortly after. Maybe they were like him… trying to hide from reminders…

_I'm not hiding._

Kaidan sighed, shutting down his terminal and standing to stretch, then moving to his bedside table to toss back his standard handful of sleep meds.

_Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night._


	3. Time

**Time**

* * *

Jeff Moreau swore under his breath as he maneuvered his way through the maze of cubicles to his desk. Spaceships, mass effect relays, and the discovery of life beyond Earth had still failed to convince the government to discontinue use of the restrictive carpet boxes.

_Fucking cubicle._

The former pilot eased himself down reluctantly into his ergonomic chair. A chair far less comfortable than any he'd ever used in a ship. Or that could have just been his personal preference.

_Fucking chair._

He powered up his terminal, the bleary orange glow of the holographic display lighting up his little square of workspace. He tapped the icon that showed he had new email messages and scanned quickly through the contents of his inbox. Boring, boring, boring… brass flapping their traps, official business, report deadlines… one of the return addresses jumped out at him suddenly and his scrolling finger froze in midair.

Commander Alenko.

Jeff's mouth dropped open. He stared at the name, a sickening dread blooming in his gut. He sank back in his chair, his hands falling limply into his lap.

"Ah, fuck…"

The man hadn't spoken to him since the day the _Normandy_ went down. That was almost a year ago now. The memory of those brief moments he'd spent at Kaidan's apartment on the Citadel before their respective reassignments still made him cringe… it had been one of the hardest and most unpleasant things Moreau had ever had the misfortune of experiencing. But Alenko had deserved an explanation, a confession… an apology. Jeff's throat constricted even at the thought and he clenched his jaw, exhaling a long breath through his nose.

He hesitated for a moment more, then opened the message before he could have second thoughts. He skimmed the short paragraph, holding his breath, then frowned at the end of it, immediately going back to reread it. His breath escaped in a rush.

_You can't blame yourself – no one can. _

_I hope you get to fly again soon._

An inarticulate noise slipped from his lips as he pushed himself back from his desk and sagged in the chair, dropping his head into his hands. He sat there for a few long minutes, letting the words soak into his brain. Trying to get his head around the idea that Alenko didn't hate him, didn't blame him.

_Of course I'm to blame. If I had just gone to a pod…_

He squeezed his eyes shut, massaging the bridge of his nose. The argument was useless. How many agonizing nights had he spent awake, staring at his ceiling, going over and over those events in his mind? Regretting every second he'd refused to leave that chair. Recalling the horror that had frozen his heart as her armored form spun off into space, shrinking smaller and smaller in the tiny round viewport as his pod rocketed toward Alchera.

Jeff shook himself of the nightmarish reverie and snatched up his crutches. "Well, I think it's time for some coffee," he announced to no one in particular. He made his way as quickly as possible toward his building's cafeteria. There was coffee available in the small lunch room of his floor, but today he wanted the distraction of walking. Anything to get him away from Alenko's words, away from that memory….

He kept his head down, his eyes on his feet and his mind on maneuvering his crutches. As early as it was, the halls were virtually deserted. He was deep in thought when a body crashed into him out of nowhere, knocking him back into the wall and eliciting a sharp cry as pain racked up his legs.

Jeff got his crutches under him again quickly and rounded on the person, his mouth open and ready to deliver a torrent of expletives. But the man was already striding away, marching down the hall and turning the corner, never looking back.

Jeff shook his head, swearing anyway. He turned back to the front and was about to continue on his way when a manila envelope at his feet caught his eye. He froze, staring at it, his brain momentarily attempting to refuse its existence. _No one _used envelopes or paper anymore... he hadn't seen anything in hardcopy since... well, since his class on hardcopy in gradeschool. Perplexed, he stooped to pick it up.

Was it possible the man who had run into him was actually delivering_ paper mail _to someone? He flipped it over to see if there was a name on it, thinking he might as well drop it off himself if he could, since the original carrier was now long gone.

There _was_ a name, printed in bold, black letters.

**JEFF MOREAU**

He blinked. "What?" He held it at arms' length, squinting at it. But the letters didn't change. Somehow, they clearly spelled his name. Jeff looked back over his shoulder, wishing he would have seen the messenger's face. Maybe the man was on his way to see him. Maybe the man didn't know what Jeff Moreau looked like, and that's why he hadn't of just handed over the letter in a civilized manner.

"This is bizarre," Jeff muttered, shaking his head. He sighed, opening the envelope and dumping the contents into his opposite palm. A letter of some kind topped several other sheets of paper. He frowned, tucking the envelope under his arm as he read:

_Mr. Moreau,_

_Stop wasting your talent. We are in need of someone of your expertise to pilot a prototype ship based on the original _Normandy_'s design. We are aware of your role in the unfortunate demise of the _Normandy SR-1_ and the far more devastating loss of Commander Elizabeth Shepard. But sitting behind a desk helps nothing. The Reapers are coming, and the recent attacks on human colonies must be stopped. Humanity needs you. We have a ship for you. We have Shepard. Join us, and make a difference. Your opportunity awaits tomorrow, midnight, at Gate 27 in the Zakara Ward of the Citadel. Be there._

There was no signature, no company letterhead on the paper. His frown deepened, his heart pounding in his throat.

_We have a ship for you. We have Shepard._

Shepard…

Jeff swallowed hard, turning the paper over in a vain search for any kind of identifying marks. Was it possible? Could it be true? Or was it some kind of trap? He noticed the sheets of paper beneath the letter were actually several high resolution photographs. He flipped through them quickly, finally coming to one that made him stumble back against the wall again.

The air squeezed from his lungs for a second time that morning. "Holy Christ…"

It was Shepard. Flat on her back on a medical table, attached to what looked like several life support machines. But it was her, unmistakably. The time stamp on the photo was only a few days previous.

His legs gave out and Jeff barely caught himself on his crutches to save himself a full out fall. He braced against the wall, his eyes never leaving the photo. Never leaving Shepard's face, her expression so peaceful despite the horrendous scars that criss-crossed her cheeks. His mind raced almost past the point of conscious thought.

Who was this from? How had they found Shepard? How had they gotten to her in time to save her? Why hadn't the Alliance been told? Or had they been told, and were keeping it secret for some reason? If it _was_ Shepard, why had no one heard the news of her recovery? Was she really alive? Or was this possibly a clone? Or more likely, was this just some kind of cruel prank and the pictures completely fake?

_I could report this_.

He could take it to the brass. Have them launch an investigation, find out if it was even real.

_And stay behind my desk._

Jeff bit his lip. The serious mention of the Reapers told him the letter could not have been sent from the Alliance, nor from any Council-backed source. The new Council still refused to believe there was a fleet of incoming Sovereign-equivalents, preferring instead to believe the giant sentient ship had been a product of the geth, and that there was only one of them. And most militaries seemed to agree with the severely delusional Council, at least publicly.

It practically gave him ulcers, listening to a year's worth of political bullshit about the issue when Shepard and so many others had given their lives to bring a warning of the Reapers and save the Citadel the first time. It was utter maddness. Suicide. A waste of life...

_Ashley..._

Jeff clenched his jaw, the photo crinkling beneath his tightened grip.

_I could go. I could go and investigate... _do _something for once. There's no harm in at least looking into it. I owe it to them..._

He looked at the letter again, disliking the lack of signature. If it were digital media he could try to hack its source codes, maybe get an idea of who had sent it. There was little he could do with paper, however.

_What if these are the wrong people?_

But how could they be the wrong people if they had saved Shepard somehow? If they wanted the Reapers and the attacks on the human colonies stopped? Both the Alliance and the Council had yet to take any adequate action on either matter, and he had long considered them them the "right" people.

Jeff quickly shoved everything back into the envelope and about-faced, heading as quickly as he could manage back toward his cubicle to gather his things. He had a trip to plan.

* * *

Needles in her skin. Hooks in her lungs. Pressure on her chest. Throbbing in her head, humming in her ears.

Her legs were... missing. She couldn't feel her legs.

Panic bloomed; told her muscles to move, but she couldn't. Her body was heavy, slow, as if it weighed a thousand pounds. The effort of attempting to move sent fire burning through her arms and shoulders.

Then she heard voices, faint and muted.

"There, on the monitor. Something's wrong." A woman, but she didn't recognize the tones.

She opened her eyes, or thought she did. She gradually saw gray, and light. Squinted and blinked. Her eyes hurt… felt dry and grainy. She blinked harder, strained to focus. Saw a strange ceiling. A terrible feeling nagged at her senses, but her brain couldn't place it.

"She's reacting to outside stimuli," a man's voice spoke up, also unrecognizable.

"Showing an awareness of her surroundings. Oh my God, Miranda, I think she's waking up!"

The she saw the woman, a figure clad in white and framed by a full head of dark hair. But the woman was utterly unfamiliar, and the panic came again, followed by a sudden surge of survival instinct that caused her body to jerk spasmodically in its effort to rise.

"Damnit, Wilson," the woman spat, "she's not ready yet! Give her the sedative."

She turned her head, saw the man. But her memories remained blank, her thoughts groping for information that lurked just at the edge of her consciousness. Something was wrong about all of this….

Her hand flew up into her line of sight, but the woman caught it and gently pushed it back down.

"Shepard, don't try to move," the woman said gently. Looking at her. Speaking to her.

_Shepard._

"Just lie still, try to stay calm."

_Shepard._ The name brought back an inkling of familiarity. She clung to it, repeating it over and over. Was that who she was? What had happened? Where was she? Why did she hurt?

"Heart rate still climbing, brain activity is off the charts!" the man shouted.

The woman moved out of sight, across the room. More gray and bright lights. Some kind of computer stations….

"Stats are pushing into the red, it's not working!" the man barked. Somewhere in the distance a high-pitched beeping accelerated in pitch and rhythm.

"Another dose, now!" the woman ordered, her tone urgent.

_Am I Shepard?_

She moved her head and saw the man again, bending over a different station. She heard a hissing noise close to her ear, and everything started turning fuzzy again.

"Heart rate dropping, stats falling back into normal range," the man reported. "That was too close. We almost lost her."

The dark-haired woman came to stand near her again, looking down at her, an expression of concern on her face. She glanced up to the man, looking angry. "I told you your estimates were off," she snapped. Her voice sounded like it came from far away. Shepard felt the pain slowly easing away from her body. Felt as if she were floating. Black began to creep in around the gray and the lights.

"Run the numbers again," the strange woman said, but then everything dissolved into blissful nothingness.

* * *

He'd done it just to get them to shut up.

Had said, "Fine, give me her number." Dialed it while they watched eagerly. Sounded suave and confident as he asked Dr. Rachel Colette out for dinner and drinks at a decently-rated restaurant. Ignored their silent cheers and fist-pumps as she graciously answered "I'd love to," and then he disconnected.

"Happy now?" he demanded, closing down the civilian-model omni-tool he used when not enclosed in a hardsuit.

They hooted and hollered and congratulated his accomplishment – Dr. Colette was not only hot but _rich_, and had a reputation for refusing advances. He turned his back on them and left as quickly as he could.

Not that he could blame them for their reaction.

None of them had any idea what he'd been up to on the _Normandy_, aside from the general knowledge about chasing and destroying geth. They had no idea he'd fallen madly in love with his CO, shared a bed with her, taken shore leave with her, even taken her to meet his parents. They hadn't seen him that year after her death, when it had been all he could do to put one foot in front of the other each day, when it had hurt just to _breathe_ without her.

It was a long, slow, torturous climb from that abyss. It made him think of what Shepard had said to him in the medbay after the defeat of Sovereign, when she was still recovering from her injuries and had confessed to him why she sometimes seemed to push him away. She'd said losing her family had created a horrible, yawning abyss, right in the center of her.

At the time he'd never experienced such a thing himself. He'd never lost anyone that close to him… never let himself _get_ that close to anyone other than his own family, who had always remained safe at home in Vancouver. But now… now he knew exactly what she meant. It's what he'd felt when he'd lost her. And now he had a whole new appreciation for the agony she'd experienced on Mindoir and Akuze, and found himself continuously amazed she'd even allowed herself to pursue a relationship with him.

What he'd felt in those moments – days – months - after her death had nearly destroyed him. The grief, the despair, the hopelessness. He would never put himself through that again. He couldn't.

And that's why he knew his little "date" with Dr. Colette wouldn't lead where his friends wanted it to lead, or even where the good doctor herself maybe hoped it would lead. It would be just another dead end, another waste of time, another awkward conversation he'd have to have when it came time to tell her he just wasn't interested in any kind of relationship right now.

The truth was he'd never been one to actively pursue romantic relationships, even before Shepard. There wasn't any time. He'd spent his teenage years on a space station in the middle of nowhere; the one girl he'd been interested in had ended up terrified of him – and later kidnapped and almost killed him. It had taken him years to get over the emotional scarring left by BAaT, and then he'd joined the Navy. He'd seen how hard it was for his mother to be left at home while his father traversed the galaxy on assignment and decided long ago he wouldn't put a nice civilian woman through that. And dating within the Navy… well, that was near impossible. Too many regs to worry about. Too much time spent aboard small ships in cramped spaces. Or too much time spent a galaxy apart.

Kaidan sighed heavily as he reached the door of his tiny private apartment and swiped his passcard. The door lock blinked green and obligingly opened.

_The regs didn't stop you and Shepard. You didn't mind spending months aboard a cramped ship with _her_._

He locked the door behind him and trudged to the couch, which, given the size of his humble abode, was about three feet from the door. He collapsed onto it and pressed his palms into his eyes, groaning. At least he'd be leaving the Citadel again soon. On a classified mission. A perfect excuse to get away from his well-meaning but misguided group of friends – mostly fellow marines from the _Tokyo_ – and a perfect excuse to escape a second date with Dr. Colette.

He closed his eyes, trying to relax. Trying with all his might to keep the thoughts of Shepard crammed in the neat and tidy mental box he'd made for them.


	4. Alive

**A/N:** I'm BACK! So sorry for the delay, no excuses, really. I feel I should give fair warning: I have taken liberties with some of the game dialogue and even with some of Shepard's reactions to things. The following chapters are how my Shepard would have really reacted if things had gone my way. And isn't that what fanfiction is for - to make things go your way? I thought so. ;) Hope you enjoy. Many thanks to my beta **sinvraal**!

* * *

**Alive**

* * *

Cerberus.

Seeing their logo on his flight suite still gave Joker a twinge of guilt, of doubt, followed by the inevitable wash of dread for the day Shepard would wake up in one of their medical bays. Not that he dreaded her finally waking up - the sooner she did, the sooner they discovered if she was really all there or not, the better. The sooner they could really start investigating the disappearance of colonies, the sooner they could start the true beginnings of building a proper defense against the Reapers. And the sooner Shepard would throw a fit over being resurrected by Cerberus. For her, that was almost as bad as being resurrected by batarian slavers - if Project Lazarus even worked, anyway.

Joker shook his head as he made his way down the halls of the Cerberus headquarters he'd been stationed to for almost a year now. He still couldn't believe what they had managed to do - what they were in the process of doing. Sometimes he felt he was living in the middle of a science fiction novel. Bringing a person back from the dead seemed impossible, beyond the scope of anything he could have imagined. But he'd seen the proof himself, seen Shepard with his own eyes. Aside from the appearance of new scars and the absence of old ones, she looked the same. He'd read the medical reports, compared before and after DNA samples, heard her heartbeat, touched her skin. Until he'd seen her for himself, he just hadn't been able to believe it. Now that he _had _seen her, and knew it was true, he still had trouble accepting it.

Shepard was _alive_... at least according to the medical definition of the word. Maybe once she was up and around, and acting like the Shepard he remembered, he would really believe it. Maybe...

He couldn't help but wonder if she would act like her previous self. How much would she remember of her life? Would she still act wary around batarians? Still hate Cerberus?

Joker vividly remembered the tone of Shepard's voice over the comms as she'd confronted Dr. Carson, one of the men responsible for the thresher maw attack on Akuze. Still remembered the goosebumps that had crawled up his spine as she'd given Corporal Toombs permission to kill the man.

That was the day he'd decided to be extra sure to never do anything that might land him on her bad side. Through the rest of their time together, he never saw her act so viciously as she did toward Cerberus operatives or batarians. Made him glad he just flew the ship and didn't go groundside for once. He didn't want to see that coldness firsthand... it was bad enough to listen to it. The sharp words forced through clenched teeth. He could only imagine the terror felt by the people who wound up on the wrong side of Shepard's shotgun.

_Which could very shortly be you!_

The thought poked itself into his head despite his best efforts to resist it. He swiped his passcard at the security checkpoint and continued further into the depths of the building, toward the heart of the complex where the ship he'd been flying for Cerberus awaited him. Flying was still his best remedy for the fears that persisted in the shadows of his mind.

He was, after all, responsible for her death in the first place. If she hadn't died, she wouldn't now be at the mercy of Cerberus, lying in one of their med-bays like a real-life Frankenstein's monster.

Joker rubbed a hand over his face as he swiped his card at another security door and passed through into the docking bay. He took a deep breath of the stale, recycled air, relishing the smell of hydraulic fluid, fuel, and engine exhaust that came with the presence of a starship. He stared up at the small vessel, nowhere near as fast or stealthy as the _Normandy_, and thought of all that had changed in the last two years.

He worked for Cerberus now. And they would expect Shepard to work for them too, if she woke up and proved to have possession of all her mental faculties. Would she blame him for her death? For losing everything she had once had? Would she consider his employment with the humans-first organization a betrayal? Would she even agree to fly with him? Or would she accept her new situation and see the opportunity as he had: another chance. Another chance to do something, to make a difference?

Maybe she wouldn't remember any of that at all.

Either way, Joker just hoped the waiting would be over soon. He hated to wait... it left far too much time for thinking.

* * *

"Wake up, Commander."

A female voice. Orders. Vibrations thrummed against her spine, and the sound of deep, booming explosions resonated in her chest. A familiar sound echoed in the background… automatic weapons fire…

"Shepard, do you hear me? Get out of that bed now – this facility is under attack!"

_Attack_.

Her eyes sprang open and she surged into a sitting position, only to be hit with shocking pains through her head and rib cage. Elizabeth doubled over, a thick moan escaping her throat.

"Shepard, your scars aren't healed, but I need you to get moving. This facility is under attack."

That voice again. _Scars…_

She lifted a hand to her cheek and felt the raised lines of tender flesh. They criss-crossed from hairline to jaw. Alarmed, she glanced to her bare forearms and saw more raised white lines, clustered around the joints of her elbows and wrists. For the first time she noticed the room around her – a medic of some kind, but not the _Normandy_'s. And not Alliance. A burst of flame erupted outside the window across from her bed, followed by a tremor through the floor.

_What in the hell…?_

"There's a pistol in the locker on the other side of the room. Hurry!"

More orders. More explosions and a distant blaring klaxon persuaded her to move despite her confusion. She stood unsteadily, then gripped a nearby console as vertigo washed over her. It passed quickly, and she took a few experimental steps toward the locker. Her body felt strange… oddly heavy and clumsy. Vague aches shot through her muscles as she moved, but she was used to working through pain. She shoved the questions and discomfort to the back of her mind and concentrated on arming herself. She yanked the locker open – and froze.

A very familiar yellow-orange logo stared back at her from the breastplate of a suit of light armor. An icy terror gripped her gut and she staggered backwards.

"You don't have time to wait around, Shepard!" the disembodied voice barked. "Grab your weapon and armor!"

_Your weapon… _your_ armor… No…_

The floor rocked beneath her and Elizabeth once again had to catch herself, this time on the edge of the locker. The scars on her arms glared at her and she squeezed her eyes shut, her mind racing with possibilities – all of them horrible.

"Where is my crew?" she asked aloud, her voice husky and cracked.

"You'll have to find thermal clips for your pistol along the way," the voice said, either ignoring the question or unable to hear it.

Elizabeth clenched her jaw and straightened, snatching the pistol from the locker and then slamming it shut. She would never wear that logo… _never_…

"What the hell is a thermal clip?" she snarled, bringing the pistol up to examine it. It was a strange configuration, lacking a heat sink. _Ah, thermal clip. I see._

The voice did not answer, and Shepard concluded the channel must be one-way only. No matter. She would find this mysterious woman and get answers - one way or another.

* * *

The actions came automatically, instinctually, but something felt… different. The push and pull of Jacob Taylor's biotic field was a distant background crescendo against her nerves as Elizabeth became aware of her own actions with a peculiarly sharp focus. The pistol grip fit perfectly in her palm, the weight of the weapon comfortable and familiar despite the learning curve the thermal clips had required. Her gaze quickly found her targets and her finger squeezed the trigger almost instantaneously. She felt the hum of biotics along her mutant nodes, saw the shimmer of her corona in her peripheral vision. It came so easily – too easily. She could unleash it with barely a flick of her hand, barely a motion of her arm, without having to fully execute the well-memorized mnemonic forms. The blue-black wave of gravitational force washed across the room and obliterated the hostile mechs like they were nothing more than paper dolls, scattering their various parts in a shower of sparks.

Elizabeth blinked in the sudden silence, legs braced wide in a combat stance, pistol hissing, her corona still roiling, breathing hard.

Too easy….

She rounded on the man who called himself Jacob Taylor, the first non-hostile being she'd come across since waking up in the strange med-bay. He braced, ready, looking her over with a cautious expression, though his weapon remained lowered.

Elizabeth forced herself to lower her own and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to quiet her nerves. She found it difficult to manage, however, unable to take her eyes off the logo on the shoulder of the man's armor. The sight of it alone was enough to make her hot with rage, and her fragile illusion of control quickly snapped.

She hooked the edge of his breastplate in two fingers and yanked him close. "Now that we are out of _danger_," she growled, "kindly answer my goddamn questions. Starting with where the fuck am I, and who the fuck are you, and what the fuck is _this_?" She tapped the Cerberus logo on his armor with the muzzle of her pistol.

The man retreated a little beneath her withering glare. "Hey, no need to get upset." He tried and failed at a friendly smile. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know. I have no reason to hide anything from you."

"Then what is this place?"

"Lazarus Station."

"Cerberus operated?"

He hesitated for a brief second. "Yes."

She tightened her grip on both his armor and the pistol. "And what does Cerberus do here?"

Taylor swallowed hard. "The station was constructed especially for the purpose of... resurrecting you."

"Me?"

"Yes ma'am."

Elizabeth narrowed her gaze. "Resurrecting?"

"Correct."

_Lazarus._ A strange coldness took hold of her chest and began to creep up her throat. "Resurrecting… as from the dead?"

Jacob Taylor looked her directly in the eye. "What's the last thing you remember?"

The question took her off guard. She released her hold on his armor and straightened, frowning as she searched her memories. "The _Normandy_… we were hunting down pockets of geth. In the Omega Nebula, Amada System… some ships had gone missing there, we were investigating. And then… then…" Elizabeth closed her eyes, trying hard to see past the vague edges of the pictures in her head. "And then… fire… I remember fire… and… that's it. Then I woke up here."

She looked back to Jacob, her heart jumping. _Kaidan. My crew! _ "What happened?" she choked out. "What happened to the _Normandy_? What happened to my crew?"

The soldier dropped his eyes and shook his head. "I think it's best we get to the shuttles first –"

"Tell me _now_!" she roared, surging forward to come nose to nose with Jacob, her hand splayed across his chestplate and holding him pinned against the balcony railing. Her corona flared around her again, dancing across her skin like blue fire.

"Easy, Commander!" Jacob blurted, eyes wide. "Just that it's a long story and it's not safe –"

She raised her pistol and his words trailed away.

"Okay, no problem," he said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. "The _Normandy _was destroyed by an unidentified ship. Broke into pieces above the planet Alchera, but most of your crew got away in escape pods and landed on the planet's surface."

A breath of relief hissed through her teeth.

"They were rescued by other Alliance ships about a week later. But you… well." His dark eyes shifted around again. "You were spaced by the explosion, your hardsuit was damaged, and you died of asphyxiation. Your body was recovered before you hit the surface. Cerberus spent a fortune bringing you back to life. Here, on Lazarus Station."

Elizabeth felt herself shaking as she stared into Jacob Taylor's face. Her heart thudded hard in her chest, echoing in her ears, and her palms were suddenly cold and clammy. She tried to work her tongue into a question, her lips feeling numb.

"I… I was _dead_?" The whisper could barely be heard above the distant sounds of continuing battle.

Jacob nodded.

She blinked several times, all at once very aware of her body and all its various physical functions. Breathing – in and out. Her pounding heart. Her growling stomach. The flats of her booted feet on the floor, the feel of the weapon in her hand, the motion of her eyes, the trickle of sweat sliding down the back of her neck. "But… I… I feel… fine." _Not true. I feel different. My weight… my biotics… the scars… _

Nausea hit her hard and Elizabeth spun away from Jacob, doubling over and vomiting what little was in her stomach onto the floor. She took a few gasping breaths, spit, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"How… how is that possible?" Another strangled whisper, forced between clenched teeth. She kept her head down, hoping to combat the dizziness still making the room spin.

A moment passed before Jacob answered, speaking gently. "Lot of hard work, and a lot more money. I know it's a lot to take in right now, and I promise you'll get whatever answers you want, but we really need to get out of here. We still need to find Miranda -"

"Miranda." Elizabeth straightened slowly, closing her eyes and inhaling a deep breath through her nose. The dizziness and nausea vanished beneath a new objective. "I heard a woman through the loud speaker, giving me orders when I first woke up. That Miranda?"

"Yes, that's her! When was the last time you heard from her?"

Elizabeth shrugged, opening her eyes. "I don't know... awhile before I found you. Her signal seemed to cut out... I think the mechs found her."

"Then we need to get going. You gonna be okay till we get somewhere safe enough to talk?"

Elizabeth studied him sidelong, fingering her pistol. He seemed honest, genuine. At the very least he was truly concerned for the safety of the woman named Miranda. And if he'd had any intention of betraying her, he probably would have already tried to do so. "Yeah, sure." He didn't seem to notice the sarcastic lilt in her voice. "Let's go."

She led the way forward.


	5. Advantage

**Advantage**

* * *

The shuttle left Lazarus Station and shot away into the relative safety of space.

Shepard stood with her legs braced, arms at her side, her right hand still gripping her pistol so hard her forearm ached. She stared out the window at the streaking stars. The soft chime of the seatbelt warning echoed in the background, but she ignored it. She could feel the eyes of the two Cerberus operatives boring into her back, but she didn't turn around.

She just stood there, looking out into space, her head throbbing and heart still pounding, trying to understand. Trying to comprehend.

_Two years._

She sucked in a sharp breath, fighting another round of nausea. How was that possible? She remembered hovering over the planet Alchera in the _Normandy_ as if it were only a few days ago. And now they were telling her… the ship was gone. Some of her crew dead. Others moved on to different ships, different assignments, different occupations altogether.

And she had died.

Elizabeth bit her lip, putting a hand against the cool window and leaning against it, closing her eyes. _I don't remember dying. Just seems like a short sleep… and now I wake up in this… nightmare._

The woman called Miranda cleared her throat. "Before you meet with the Illusive Man, we need to ask you a few questions to evaluate your condition."

Shepard ground her teeth, her finger curling around the trigger of her pistol.

Jacob snorted. "Come on, Miranda, more tests? Shepard took down those mechs without any trouble. That has to be good enough."

_Nothing is ever good enough for Cerberus_, Shepard thought grimly.

"It's been two years since the attack," Miranda defended. "The Illusive Man needs to know Shepard's personality and memories are still intact."

A bark of laughter escaped Shepard and she turned from the window to find both of them staring at her with some concern. She smiled, an action that felt as twisted as her insides. "You wanna know if my memories are still intact?" Her voice was a deadly whisper. "I'll tell you what I remember, Miranda." She crossed the narrow space between them in one stride and shoved the muzzle of her pistol to the other woman's throat.

Jacob slid sideways on his seat, drawing his own weapon and leveling it at Shepard. "Hey now Commander, calm down."

"Shut up," she snarled at him, keeping her hard gaze locked on Miranda. "You want to conduct your little test, well here it is. I remember, all right. I remember that Cerberus lured the thresher maws to Akuze and watched the pioneer team be slaughtered, then watched almost my _entire unit_ get wiped out, too. _On purpose_. I remember Cerberus took what few survivors were left of that colony and performed brutal experiments on them. I remember when Cerberus' twisted experiments accidentally unleashed rachni onto Listening Posts Alpha and Theta, causing more deaths. I remember when Cerberus deliberately destroyed the settlement on Chasca by turning the settlers into Husks! And I remember how Cerberus lured Admiral Kahoku's marines to another thresher maw by setting up a fake distress beacon, and then killed Admiral Kahoku later when he discovered Cerberus was a rogue black ops group."

Shepard leaned close, forcing the words through clenched teeth. "Oh, I remember, Miranda. I remember how many millions of lives Cerberus has ruined or ended in the pursuit of the so-called betterment of humanity." Another half-insane chuckle burst from her lips. "Cerberus has never bettered anything. They're just a bunch of murdering, heartless, xenophobes. So… please… are there any other questions you'd like to ask me?"

The silence rang throughout the shuttle, the tension humming against Shepard's skin like a living thing. She felt the buzzing of the others' biotic fields, the hairs on her arms prickling. But she doubted either would risk a dark energy outburst within the tiny confines of the shuttle. Plain weapons fire would be risky enough… especially if the Illusive Man had really spent so much time and money bringing her back to life.

Her two companions had gone to great lengths to keep her alive during the attack on Lazarus station. And that was her advantage. They apparently desperately needed her alive, and she didn't give a rat's ass what happened to them.

Miranda's cool blue eyes looked sideways to where Jacob still held his own gun at the ready. "Well," she drawled, "the Commander's memory certainly seems solid. As does her personality. Excellent." Her gaze shifted back to meet Elizabeth's. The only effect of Shepard's searing rant appeared to be the slight flush of her face. "There really are other tests we should run. But… I think you've been through enough today, Commander. And there's still more to come, so I'll spare you the rest of it. We'll have to hope the Illusive Man accepts our little field test as evidence enough."

"Glad to hear it," Shepard snarled, stepping away from Miranda and finally holstering her weapon. She sat down stiffly on the seat across from them, but her withering glare never wavered.

Jacob holstered his pistol as well, glancing from Shepard to Miranda and back again. Miranda only smiled.

* * *

Shepard stood in the darkened communications room long after the image of the Illusive Man had disappeared. She stood and relished the quiet, the solitude, while she tried to get her thoughts in order and her emotions under control.

Her original plan of putting a round through the Illusive Man's head had proven impossible. She had hoped she'd be meeting him in person, but he'd been smarter than that. Of course he was smarter than that. The Alliance had been hunting him for years, and still didn't even know who he really was.

But her initial shock and horror about her supposed death and having been brought back to life by none other than Cerberus had dimmed when the Illusive Man told her about the vanished human colonists. And a strange feeling had climbed up her throat when he'd told her the Alliance wasn't doing anything about it. She knew it was possible he was lying… and truth be told, if she hadn't of stood right in front of the criminal organization's leader, close enough to look into those freakish reflective eyes of his, she likely would have attributed the disappearances to a group like Cerberus, too.

And the Reapers….

Elizabeth closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly. It all just seemed so… surreal. Her mind and her body insisted she had not been unconscious - certainly not dead - for two years, yet everything she heard and observed told her otherwise. She'd been two years gone, and everything had continued on without her. The Alliance and rest of the Citadel races were still trying to pick up the pieces after Sovereign, Captain Anderson had become a Councilor, her old crew had scattered to the far ends of the galaxy – some of them untraceable even to the Illusive Man.

And now she was back, somehow, impossibly… and put right back into the middle of it all, almost as if she had never left. The Reapers were still coming. The Council still refused to believe it. And on top of that, entire human settlements were vanishing without a trace. And she was supposed to fix it all. Again. Because she was Commander Shepard. Symbol of hope for all. Epitome of humanity's potential. Or so the Illusive Man had said. She had killed a Reaper, after all. Saved the Citadel. Saved the entire galaxy, really… at least temporarily.

_Of course._

Elizabeth walked to the nearest wall and leaned back against it, sliding down to sit heavily on the floor. She dropped her head into her hands.

What the Illusive Man failed to realize, what many people had failed to realize, even before her actions in stopping Saren and Sovereign, was that she had never done anything on her own. She'd had a crew from the very beginning – a group of the finest, bravest, smartest humans and aliens she'd ever had the pleasure of serving with. Even before the _Normandy_, she'd always had a unit to back her up, to pull her out of tight spots, to help lift the load.

Everything had always been a team effort. And anything worth doing always would be. Yet somehow the spotlight had landed on her. She had tried her best to evenly distribute the praise, and accept any blame. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn't.

Now… now the Illusive Man told her she couldn't have her old crew back. They were unreachable or doing other things. She'd have to build a new crew, on a new ship.

She didn't want a new crew. _Especially_ not a Cerberus crew. She wanted….

_Kaidan._

Elizabeth lifted her head, staring out into the empty dimness. _Where are you now, Kaidan? What have you been doing? Did you think… oh god, did you think I died, too? And you wouldn't know about the Lazarus Project - you have no idea I'm back, do you?_

Her chest constricted at the notion, her already overwhelmed brain unable to deal with the idea that Kaidan had thought her dead for two years now, and what that might mean for their relationship –

_What relationship! Two years… you'd be a stranger to him now…_

Shepard pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes to stop the sting of tears. "Goddamnit," she hissed aloud. "Pull yourself together."

She took a deep breath and shoved herself off the floor. _Okay. One thing at a time._ The Illusive Man said she couldn't have her old crew back, but she didn't give a damn what he said. She didn't give a damn what he ordered her to do. He'd brought her back, but she would never owe him anything. He didn't deserve that.

Humanity and the Alliance needed her to sort out the disappearances of their colonies, fine. The galaxy needed her to get back to the fight against the Reapers, fine. But she would do it her way. And if the Illusive Man didn't like it, he could fire her. Or waste his investment and kill her. Somehow she doubted he would have the balls to do that.

Her advantage.

A slow smile spread across Shepard's face as she finally moved for the communication room's exit. She would find her old crew. She would find out why colonies were dropping off the map. And then… she would destroy Cerberus.


	6. Strings

**Strings**

* * *

Kaidan was sorely out of touch with the social scene these days. The only people he regularly interacted with were his unit of marines and his superiors. Since the disaster on the _Normandy_, he'd spent virtually no time whatsoever on the civilian side of things, which was perhaps why he seemed to find civvies so annoying lately. They were always asking so many questions, always wanting to talk about the most trivial and unimportant things. Didn't they know there was an entire race of sentient machines bent on destruction coming their way?

Oh that's right, they didn't know that. Because some politician somewhere had one day started thinking maybe Commander Shepard was a little crazy – with those "visions" of hers and all that. The whispers and rumors took off from there, until the Council and entire Human Embassy, and even the Alliance, were so wrapped up in debating the issue the whole point was lost.

And since all of it was classified, Kaidan couldn't talk about it either.

His frustration with the mess of things kept him away from all but the most necessary of social functions. Except this one. He severely regretted asking Dr. Colette out on a date as he took the lift up from the Wards to the Presidium. He was pretty sure he had absolutely nothing in common with this woman, and definitely sure he didn't want to pursue any kind of non-professional relationship right now. Not to mention he wasn't sure at all about what the hell they would talk about. And it had taken him _forever_ to find any decent civilian clothes to wear.

So much trouble. For what?

A very awkward and uncomfortable dinner?

Definitely one of the worst decisions he'd made in years.

_Except for – no. No, goddamnit. You're not going there. Not now._

He reached the Presidium and walked slowly and purposefully in the direction of the restaurant. They were supposed to meet in the lobby. Maybe she wouldn't show. Maybe she'd call and cancel.

But his omni-tool remained silent and dark. He reached the restaurant and entered the lobby. She arrived shortly after, whisking through the door and finding him almost immediately, her face lighting up in a smile as she waved.

Kaidan's breath hitched in his throat. It didn't help that he hadn't seen a real woman wearing anything but a uniform for almost two years, either.

At least the doctor wasn't a _complete_ stranger. She specialized in rehabilitating unstable biotics, and most recently had been spearheading the Alliance research into the Clotanca virus. Given his first-hand experience with Rahna's engineered version of the organism, Dr. Colette had called on him for advice several times over the past year. As nervous as the research made him, he appreciated her caution in the matter, and her willingness to include and consider his input.

Although if the rumors were true – and he had to admit they appeared to be, given how easily she had accepted his dinner invitation – there may have been reasons other than the research for the frequency of her calls.

He finally unstuck his feet and went to greet her, somehow managing a smile that felt halfway real. Her evening wear accentuated her figure without revealing too much, but he still had to make a concentrated effort to keep his eyes on her face. Maybe he was more deprived than he'd let himself believe.

"Hey Rachel, good to see you." The words came without thought. A reflex.

"You too, Kaidan. Been a long time."

_Not _that_ long._ "Yeah. I thought it might be good to catch up." _No you didn't._

He sure had gotten good at pretending lately. He suppressed a sigh as the hostess escorted them to a table._ This is going to be a long night._

* * *

The investigation into Freedom's Progress had gone better than Shepard expected. Lawson and Taylor worked well together in combat, and despite Miranda's sometimes acerbic attitude and misplaced devotion to Cerberus, she had not yet objected to any order Shepard had given. Still, the Commander preferred Jacob. He had an Alliance history, and the fact he'd admitted to not fully trusting the Illusive Man went a long away.

Seeing Tali again had helped, too. There had been no time for explanations or questions, unfortunately. But merely hearing the quarian's lilting acknowledgment, and the admission that Shepard had been missed seemed to make the situation more _real_ somehow. Perhaps the whole ridiculous idea of being dead and resurrected was finally starting to sink in a little.

Tali had not been able to join Shepard's mission, but it still felt as if one missing part of her had been pieced back together. Maybe it was just the fact that Tali represented a physical, emotional connection between the life she remembered and life she had now. A tie that proved, in some small way, that she really _was_ still herself.

"I found a pilot I think you might like," the Illusive Man was saying, pulling Shepard back from her musings. "I hear he's one of the best, someone you can trust."

She snorted derisively and opened her mouth to tell him she seriously doubted that, but he ended the conversation before she could utter a sound. His image winked out, leaving the room dark and silent. Elizabeth closed her mouth, growling.

* * *

Joker's heart jumped at the sight of Shepard emerging from the hallway that led down to the communications room. He'd heard she'd been prematurely forced to awaken a few weeks ago, heard about the attack on Lazarus Station, heard about how she'd almost put a hole in Miranda Lawson's throat. But the gossip around the station since then was that she'd settled down a little – at least she'd agreed to investigate the disappearances of human colonies, and hadn't pulled her gun on anyone else.

Yet.

But this was the first time he'd seen her in person since she'd gotten off the medical table, and his stomach felt as if it would climb right out through his mouth. Today was his day. Today he got to tell Shepard he was here, too, working for Cerberus. Today he got to show her their new ship, tell her that he was her pilot. Again.

And that he promised not to play the hero next time if their ship went down.

…Or maybe he'd leave that part out.

Whatever exactly he told her, he had to hurry; she was already almost to the lift that would take her to the residential part of the station. Joker took off after her, limping heavily.

"Hey Commander!"

She stopped cold at the shout, stiffening. He caught up to her just as she turned around, and unconsciously braced himself. _Moment of truth._

"Joker?" she blurted, her green eyes wide.

He grinned, hoping it would distract her from any unpleasant memory she might have of the last time they had seen each other. "Just like old times, huh?"

Her mouth hung open for a moment. Then she took him completely by surprise and grabbed him into a hug. It was absolutely the last thing he had expected her to do, and he stood paralyzed in her embrace for what seemed like eternity, thankful she wasn't wearing her full suit of combat armor. He could hear her breath, feel her skin and the tickle of her hair on his cheek. After so long thinking she was dead, so long wondering if Cerberus could really bring her back, if she would be herself…

She was actually _here_. She was _real_. She was Shepard.

The sons-of-bitches had done it. Somehow, they had done it.

His arms finally came up, hugging her back.

"I can't believe it's you, Joker," she muttered, finally pulling away to look at him from arms' length.

He grunted, still dazed by the close physical contact. "Look who's talkin'. I saw you get spaced."

Shepard's face fell, and he immediately regretted his words. "I got lucky," she said softly, and then looked up to meet his eyes with an expression that gave him chills, "with a lot of strings attached."

Joker swallowed hard, then cleared his throat. "Well, uh… come on, I have something to show you that might cheer you up."

She lifted an eyebrow.

"This way." He led her in the opposite direction of the residential wing, toward the ship docks. To his relief she followed and left her weapon in its holster.

They walked for a while in silence before she spoke again. "No more crutches, huh? How did that happen?"

"Cerberus benefits," Joker answered.

"Hrm." Another pause, then, "Joker, how did you end up here?"

He'd known she would ask eventually. He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "It all fell apart without you, Commander. Everything you stirred up? The Council just wanted it gone. The team was broken up, records sealed, and I was grounded. The Alliance took away the one thing that mattered to me… hell yeah I joined Cerberus."

Only the sound of their footsteps in the corridor answered his rant and Joker glanced over his shoulder at the Commander. He really had to stop forgetting it was a Cerberus cell that had lured those thresher maws to Akuze…

But Shepard didn't look angry, just deep in thought, her eyes on the ground and face creased with a heavy frown. "You really trust the Illusive Man?" she asked finally.

"I don't trust anyone who makes more than I do," he answered honestly, leading her up to Dock B's observation platform. "But they aren't _all_ bad. They saved your life. Let me fly. And there's this." He nodded toward the window that looked out onto the empty dock, another grin spreading across his face. "They only told me last night."

Shepard looked to him in confusion, then turned her attention to the dock just as the bay doors opened and a ship began to slide in. Joker felt the familiar giddy sensation that had always gripped him upon seeing the original _Normandy_, but on top of that… well, the first time he'd laid eyes on _this_ ship, she'd taken his breath away.

The lights came on in sequence as the vessel maneuvered smoothly into its berth, revealing a very sleek, very shiny, very new yet very familiar form.

He heard Shepard inhale sharply and glanced over to see her gripping the railing hard. He smiled. "It's good to be home, huh Commander?"

It took her a second to reply, but when she did there was a strange waver to her voice he'd never heard before. "I guess we're going to have to give her a name."

He nodded.

"And you want to call her _Normandy_."

He found himself slightly unnerved by the fact it was a statement and not a question. He shifted on his feet, shrugging. "Er, well, I mean… don't you think it's a good fit? Look at her! She's freakin' gorgeous. Spitting image of the old _Normandy_, only… well, a lot better."

Shepard pursed her lips, almost glaring out at the new ship. Joker felt his initial excitement dampen. He thought she would have been a hell of a lot more enthusiastic about the thing. It was, after all, probably the most technologically advanced warship that existed within the Citadel races. And just _so damn pretty_…

"Cerberus built this," she said flatly.

"Specifically for me," he suggested. "And you, of course." He lifted his head a little higher.

"I won't call a Cerberus vessel by that name," she said. "It's an insult to the _Normandy_'s memory."

He slumped. "I prefer to think of it as a compliment to both the old and new ship," he muttered sourly. "Besides, a name doesn't make a ship what it is. The crew and captain and pilot do." He looked at her seriously. "It's the people who _use_ the ship who matter, Shepard, not the people who built it."

_Damn, Jeff, way to get all deep and feely._ But he meant every word. And it wasn't just about getting to name the new ship.

She turned to look at him, studying his face. He held her gaze.

"Joker, would you ever take orders from the Illusive Man over me?"

He scoffed. "Now that I know you're all there and really you? Hell no, Commander."

The barest of smiles tugged at one corner of her mouth. Then she broke eye contact and looked back out to the new ship, sighing heavily. "All right. _Normandy_ it is, then. Get her prepped to fly. We leave tomorrow."

"Aye, aye Commander."

She turned to go, but then hesitated. Her eyes met his again. "Good to have you aboard, Joker."

He granted her another nod. "Good to have you back, Commander."

Another bare flash of a smile, and then she was gone.


	7. SR2

**SR-2**

* * *

It still had that new ship smell.

Shepard had never been aboard a vessel that still smelled of construction. Even the original _Normandy_ had been sufficiently broken in before she'd come aboard. But here, the metallic aroma of shiny new bulkheads, the sharp plastic scent of new wire, the nose-searing smell of fresh paint, and the pervasive odor of fresh hydraulic fluid saturated every breath. She found it disturbing. It made her wonder things like: had it been put through proper stress tests? Had it logged enough flight hours to truly be deemed safe? Were the holographic displays going to suddenly short out? Would the elevator get stuck and leave her trapped for hours?

But Joker couldn't have been happier. He assured her the ship had been thoroughly safety checked and tested, down to every last bolt and wire. He'd taken it out himself the first night he'd been told about its existence, and couldn't stop raving about its performance capabilities. Sure, there was that one "minor" setback of having a highly illegal and Cerberus-controlled AI aboard, but the pilot had been quick to point out that the programming shackles in place pretty much limited it to a VI's capabilities. Except that he couldn't turn it off, which annoyed him to no end. And yet it seemed the rest of the ship's abilities made up for the AI's presence, at least for Joker.

Shepard didn't like the AI's existence at all, no matter how advanced the ship or how soft the leather seats. She'd have to do something about it, somehow. Another thing to put on the to-do list.

Still, when it came to starships, she trusted Joker.

So she tried to clamp down on her unease as she toured the new ship called _Normandy SR-2_. It wasn't just that the smell was so new, she decided, it was that it was _different_. Different from the _Normandy_ she remembered. Her _Normandy_ had been smaller, more personal, comfortable yet snug, and still deadly efficient. It had smelled like people. Perfume and cologne and after-shave. Laundry detergent. Coffee and cooking food. Sometimes like the aliens that had come aboard… the strangely musky smell of Wrex, the earthy smell of Garrus, a calming and yet unidentifiable flowery scent from Tali. And after a hard battle, like a victory hard won. Sweat and burning oil, sometimes burning circuitry. Smoke. Seared bulkheads. Medi-gel. Not always the most pleasant, but familiar. Reassuring.

All of that was gone now, starkly missing from this new _Normandy_. And every vaguely familiar corner reminded her of the changes. She felt like Alice, tumbling down a rabbit hole to land in a place that resembled her old reality, but eerily altered.

The discovery of Dr. Chakwas in the medical bay had been a very welcome relief. An anchor to cling to within a stormy sea. Another known she could count on to be on her side. The doctor's story of how she'd come to be on a Cerberus vessel was far more telling than even Joker's tale. Shepard could understand Joker's reasons for joining Cerberus to a certain extent, given his smart mouth, tendency toward rash action and massive ego. But Dr. Karin Chakwas, on the other hand, had none of those things. And she had still ended up on the SR-2. How bad had things gotten in the ranks of the Alliance Navy that some of their best people were leaving to join a known terrorist organization?

"_I don't work for Cerberus,"_ Chakwas had said, setting a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder and looking her straight in the eye. _"I work for _you_. On a mission that may be crucial to the survival of the human race. I have faith that your dealings with Cerberus will be ethical. I trust you, Commander."_

Elizabeth sighed at the memory, rubbing her hands over her face. Such simple words, yet they had threatened to crumble her composure. She could not adequately express how much she appreciated the doctor's confidence. After all she had been through, all she'd had to absorb over the past few weeks, it was infinitely reassuring to know that old friends still trusted her.

Concluding her tour, she took the lift back up to the CIC where she found Yeoman Kelly Chambers. Now it was time to get to know her crew. She wasn't about to let the SR-2 leave the dock without knowing everything there was to know about every single person on this boat. She wanted to know who seemed trustworthy and who did not. Who seemed to have noble motives and who seemed to be missing a moral compass.

"Chambers."

The woman saluted. "Yes, Commander?"

"I want you to set up interviews with me for every single crewmember aboard this ship. In my quarters. Arrange them according to duty rosters and allow breaks for meals if you need to."

Chambers blinked her large green eyes. "Er, aye aye, Commander."

"And don't forget to include yourself."

"Of course, Commander."

"I'll be in my cabin. Forward the schedule to me there once you have completed it."

"Yes, Commander."

Elizabeth went back to the lift, hitting the button for Deck One. She allowed herself to sag back against the wall once the doors had closed, already feeling exhausted.

* * *

The interviews proved to be very interesting, a little disturbing, and fully surprising. The number of crew who had left the Alliance specifically as a result of how the brass had handled questions of her sanity after her death was alarming. She found herself re-evaluating many of her first opinions about this mission. She would never trust Cerberus or the Illusive Man, of course. But these people… many of them had given up careers to protect her reputation.

It seemed the Illusive Man had simply taken advantage of the opportunity. They needed a new job, and he needed a new crew. They were people who had already proven loyalty and support to her, and people he must have known she would be more inclined to trust.

Clever.

Not that she disliked the situation. In fact she found it much preferable to having a crew built solely of the Illusive Man's cronies. Like Miranda.

_That _had been a rather brusque, hostile interview, with mention of a control chip from Lawson and a bit of a biotic flare on her part, but Shepard wasn't concerned for the long term. She could handle Miranda.

The most unusual talk of all, it turned out, was Joker's. She had hoped the man could help shed some light on where Kaidan might be stationed, or how she might be able to contact him. The pilot was of little use, however, admitting the two of them hadn't spoken since shortly after the _Normandy_ went down. She found that hard to believe; Joker and Kaidan had seemed to get along quite well before. But prying into the specifics of why made Joker unusually vague.

If the pilot hadn't been so close-lipped about it, she probably would have let it go. But his odd behavior roused her curiosity, and eventually he confessed that Kaidan had blamed him for her death, because he'd refused to abandon ship. She'd gone back to force him to leave, and had ended up getting spaced because of it.

He slouched in the chair across from her couch, refusing to meet her stare. "So, uh… there you have it, Commander. I guess… I guess I'm the one who… killed you."

She was sure he took her silence for a bad thing, but it was more of an attempt to find the right words. She didn't remember any of what he'd told her. And she was glad. But would remembering it make any difference in how she viewed Joker as a person? A pilot? A member of her crew?

"So… you caused the explosion that threw me away from the escape pod, did you?" she asked.

He jerked his head up at the question, his face contorted in confusion. "What? No…"

"You damaged my hardsuit then?"

"No!"

"Then I fail to see how you would think yourself responsible for my death."

His mouth hung open for a minute. "Because I wouldn't leave," he bit off. "You came back for me. If I… if I'd just gone to a pod when you first ordered the abandon ship…" He broke off, shaking his head. The anguish in his voice still, even years after the event, surprised her. "Damnit Shepard, if you wouldn't of gone back for me, you would have lived. You wouldn't be here… resurrected by Cerberus. You'd still have your old life. The Alliance, Alenko… everyone."

She let the words sink in, considering. Studying the man before her. She'd never seen him so upset, so outwardly emotional. So serious. Except for maybe the time he'd come to her before Ilos and recommended she let herself be court-martialed rather than throw away what she had with Kaidan because of some regs.

To this day, despite everything, she considered it some of the best advice she'd ever taken. "And maybe you still would have been grounded," she ventured.

His frown indicated he'd never thought of that. "Maybe…"

"And we wouldn't have this ship."

"I'm sure the Alliance would have –"

"Been exactly where they are now," she finished. "Still trying to get organized after Sovereign. Trying to rebuild. They're short on vessels already – they have too much space to protect and not enough resources to cover it. They wouldn't have built us a new ship. And even if they had, it wouldn't have been like this." She glanced around her room. "They don't have this kind of money to spare right now."

"But still…"

"And even if you hadn't of been grounded, and even if they did give us a decent ship… we'd still be tangled up in red tape, I bet. You heard the Illusive Man, and other formerly-Alliance crewmembers have said the same thing. Politics and procedure get in the way of everything."

He narrowed his eyes. "Okay… now I'm starting to get a little worried. Since when have you ever been bothered by red tape?"

She sighed, looking down to the datapad resting on the seat beside her. Joker's Cerberus file was displayed there, giving her more information on the man than she'd ever imagined she'd know. "You're right," she admitted reluctantly. "I've found it mildly annoying in the past, sometimes downright frustrating, but never so much so that I considered joining a terrorist organization." She met his gaze. "But Joker, the Reapers are coming. And they don't give two shits about red tape. They're coming whether we're ready or not. And standing around debating my sanity and waiting for paperwork to be pushed through bureaucratic channels doesn't get us anywhere closer to being able to fight them when they arrive."

He swallowed visibly, then nodded. "Yeah. I see your point."

"Red tape and politics don't make one organization more moral than the other," she said, almost speaking more to herself than to Joker. She smiled a little. "Just like you said… it's the people who _use_ the ship who matter, not the people who built it."

He grunted. "I guess I did say that, didn't I?"

"What's done is done, Joker. We can't change any of it now. All we can do is make the most of what we have in the present. Which is a kick-ass ship, a surprisingly good and capable crew, and the best fucking pilot in the Alliance."

He shifted on his chair, actually blushing. "I guess that makes me feel a little better," he muttered. "But for what it's worth, I'm sorry about… everything. I swear I'll abandon ship next time, won't even hesitate. Promise."

Elizabeth snorted. "How about you just focus on making sure there's never a reason to abandon this ship in the first place?"

"Well yeah, of course. That would be my first choice."

"Good." She flicked off her datapad. "Then that's all, Joker."

"All right." He stood from the chair, giving her a long look. "So, uh… you actually mean all that stuff you said, right? You're not just trying to get me to stop whining?"

"I mean every word."

"Okay. Good." He straightened the shirt of his uniform, then threw her a salute. "See ya around, Commander."

* * *

Joker plotted the course for Omega, back in the cockpit where he belonged, thinking about his talk with Shepard. He had hoped the _Normandy_ crash and subject of Alenko wouldn't come up, but of course the lieutenant –er,_ commander_ – had been one of the first things she'd mentioned. And then the whole confession had come tumbling out, despite his best efforts to resist.

How did she _do _that? How did she make him want to be so honest? How could she make him… _feel_ so much?

He shook his head, trying to focus on his job. Whatever. All in all the discussion had gone far better than he ever could have dared imagine. But for some reason he still felt uneasy, uncertain.

_Cuz you told her you led her to her own death, and that her boyfriend hated you for years, and that you're the reason she's working with a terrorist organization now, and she acted like everything was okay._

Yet he had detected no deceit from her. No veiled meanings behind her tone, no subtle implications in her words. Her expression had been thoughtful, but clear of anger or blame. Maybe everything he'd said just hadn't registered yet. At least he didn't have to worry about her finding out from someone else anymore.

_Alenko. Oh boy._

He wished like hell he could help her find the man. It seemed the least he could do for his part in shattering Kaidan's soul. For separating them for two years. For the strange, hollow look that haunted Shepard's eyes when she walked this ship. He wondered what Alenko was doing now. Wondered if he should try to find a contact address. If he should send some sort of message.

_Hey what's up? How's it going? Oh and by the way, Shepard's alive now._

Joker winced. That probably wasn't the best idea. He had no idea how the man might react to such news. Did he even care anymore? Maybe he'd moved on, found another girl.

But that only made him think of Shepard and the brightness in her gaze as she'd asked about Kaidan. Trying to be so casual, and failing miserably. How horrible would it be for her, to wake up and find that two years had instantly vanished, to find out your lover thought you were dead, and had buried your memory along with your empty casket?

His mind skipped back in his own reverie, thinking of Ashley. What had started between them and then ended so abruptly. He sucked in a breath at the unexpected pang of grief. He hadn't thought about that in so long… how would he feel now, if she were to suddenly appear back from the dead?

His fingers stilled on the keyboard as he actually gave the notion serious thought. He'd be fucking thrilled, that's what. He'd make sure he didn't waste the second chance.

And then he remembered that look Alenko had given him in that Citadel apartment, so soon after Shepard had died. An expression so utterly devoid of feeling, so empty and dead, that Joker still had nightmares about it to this day.

No. No way Alenko was over her. In their own quiet way, the two of them had been the most ridiculously and disgustingly love-struck couple he'd witnessed since high school. And for two soldiers, that kind of thing was especially special. For two soldiers serving aboard the same ship, that kind of thing was _especially_ especially special. And rare. And completely forbidden. But that was a little beside the point now.

Shepard was back. She had a second chance. They all did. Alenko deserved a second chance, too.

Joker finalized their course, aiming for the next relay. Yep, that settled it. He was going to do everything in his power to help Shepard find Kaidan. That's all there was to it.


	8. Ghosts

**Ghosts**

* * *

_Two months later._

* * *

Staff Commander Kaidan Alenko strode briskly through the crowds milling around the lobby of the Citadel Embassies, wearing his dress blues and doing his best to dodge around rotund volus, hulking elcor, and tentacles of hanhar. It seemed far too busy for so early in the morning, but then politics never really slept.

He'd just been here yesterday. Sometimes he wondered if Anderson was doing this to him on purpose, as punishment for Shepard having made him a Councilor. She wasn't around to make miserable, so the man took it out on him.

Anderson hated politics.

Shepard had hated Udina even more.

Alenko sighed, excusing himself as he squeezed between two hotly arguing volus. Something about money, as usual – economic tendencies and which accounts drew the most interest or somesuch. He was almost starting to get used to it now, listening to the incessant talking. So much talking, so many reports, and so little action.

When Anderson had first tapped him to help head the formation of a new covert ops division, Kaidan had been surprised, but deeply honored and enthusiastic about the scope of the project. It was to be an elite unit of biotics, a unit he would be able to structure, train, and lead. Something he could really focus on, invest in, take charge of.

Except Anderson had neglected to mention how much paperwork the creation of such a thing involved. So much paperwork, in fact, that Kaidan had been given his very own office at Alliance Command's Citadel station. And his very own assistant. So much paperwork that he'd hardly left said office in weeks, aside from attending the very numerous planning, budgeting and recruiting meetings, of course.

Oh yes, it had to be Anderson's twisted form of revenge. Had to be.

And then came the strange message from the Councilor at 0423 that morning: _Be at my office 0500. Very important._

He could only imagine what had happened now. Udina raising a fuss about the instability of human biotics? Transfer of funds delayed once again? Whole project being canned? It was too early in the morning to deal with any of those things.

Alenko scrubbed his hands over his face. It didn't help that he'd stayed up so late last night talking with Rachel over vid-comm. Their so-called first date had actually gone quite well despite his reservations. He'd even found himself having a little fun. Smiling. Laughing a time or two. It had felt strange and foreign, sometimes wrong. But also… nice. A relief. An assurance that maybe there was hope for him after all. Maybe.

It was all still a jumble in his head, a knot of emotions roiling in the pit of his stomach that he didn't really feel like sorting out right now. He still wasn't sure he was ready to move on, not sure he wanted any kind of romantic relationship at all. Still felt a little guilty for enjoying his talks with Rachel so much. He needed to figure things out before they went on any more "dates". At least his work on forming the 1st Special Ops Biotic Company had given him ample excuses to avoid that so far. But in the meantime… their occasional chats were a welcome distraction from his daily grind.

He didn't feel it was anything serious yet, but it could be. It definitely could be. If he let it.

Alenko sighed, rubbing his eyes again, and wished he'd taken the time to grab a cup of coffee. Too late now. He reached Anderson's office door and paused a moment to take a deep breath. Collect himself. Focus. He straightened his uniform and ran a hand through his hair, then pressed the door chime that would alert the Councilor to his presence.

"Come in."

Alenko did so, the door closing behind him with a soft whoosh. The lights in the office were dimmed, the windows tinted dark. Anderson sat behind his enormous desk, the orange glow of his terminal highlighting creased and concerned features. A pile of datapads were stacked to his right, a steaming mug of coffee to his left.

Kaidan eyed the coffee greedily.

"Commander Alenko, good," Anderson said, standing. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. I apologize for dragging you out here so early, but we have a unique situation on our hands and I'd like your input."

"Anything I can do to help, sir." His voice lacked the interest he'd meant to put into it. Waking up for PT at 0400 was one thing; at least it got your blood pumping and your mind going. Talking bureaucratic bullshit at 0500 was another matter entirely.

Anderson nodded, coming around to lean back on the front of his desk and crossing his arms over his chest. Kaidan waited for the news in a relaxed parade rest, already formulating responses to what were some of the most common problems they'd run into so far in this venture.

"You'd better sit down, Commander."

Kaidan dropped his eyes from the tinted windows to Anderson's face, frowning. For the first time since receiving the Councilor's urgent way-too-early-in-the-morning message, cold worry began to creep in around his insides. "Sir?"

Anderson gestured to one of the plush armchairs that faced his desk. "Go on, sit."

Kaidan did so, slowly and uncertainly. "Exactly what kind of unique situation is this, sir?"

Anderson's mouth formed a hard line. He exhaled slowly through his nose, scratching at his jaw. "Well, there's just no better way to put it, so I'm just going to ask you straight out. It's going to sound crazy, but bear with me here."

"Yes sir."

"Alenko, do you think it's possible that Commander Shepard faked her own death?"

_That_ woke him up faster than being hit by a krogan's all-out battle charge. A multitude of responses surged to the front of his mind, not the least of which was "are you fucking insane?" But all that managed to come out of his mouth was a choked, flat, "_What_?"

"I know how it sounds," Anderson conceded. "But there have been some… interesting reports coming in from our undercover operatives on Omega. And simultaneously, some interesting rumors circulating on the extranet. Do you spend any time on the extranet, Alenko?"

Kaidan tried to wade through the sudden paralysis that had gripped his mind, but it took him awhile to remember how his mouth worked. "I… I haven't had much time for that kind of thing, Councilor." In truth, he avoided it like the plague. Too much conspiracy, speculation, false information… too many reminders.

"Of course. Well. You know how it is with the extranet - conspiracy theories are a dime a dozen. But I'm getting a lot of reports lately that show our sweeper VIs are picking up a statistically significant uptick in mentions of people seeing the _Normandy_... and Shepard."

The man locked eyes with him, and Kaidan felt the room slowly slipping sideways. He gripped the arms of the chair, his heart leaping with a flash of desperate hope before he squashed it down again. He shook his head woodenly, automatically. "That's… impossible," he whispered. "The _Normandy _was destroyed. Shepard…" He clenched his jaw, unable to continue without revealing to Anderson just how much he'd fooled the psychologists.

He cleared his throat. "I thought remnants of her armor were found on Alchera's surface?" He could already feel his pulse quickening, his biotics tingling. The thought of her floating in space, alone, suffocating, only for her body to fall to the planet's surface like nothing more than space debris - it made him sick. He'd fought the guilt for so long, finally managing to tuck it away in a place where it rarely came forward… and now Anderson had gone and torn the wound open again, letting it all rush out raw and new, as if the past two years of healing hadn't even happened.

"Yes," Anderson admitted. "Just a few pieces that somehow managed to survive re-entry. There wasn't enough left for forensics to accurately determine if the armor had simply been burned off or purposefully removed before hitting atmo. And of course with her armor burned up, there was never a chance we'd find her body, anyway."

Kaidan swallowed hard, feeling a cold sweat prickle across his skin. That had been the worst part. No body. Nothing to mourn but her picture and his own memories. One day she was real, there, physical, and the next, gone. Just gone.

"It's possible she was picked up by another ship," the Councilor went on. "Alliance vessels didn't reach Alchera for a week. Plenty of time for someone else to come along and snatch her up. Maybe even the ship that attacked you picked her up. It would have been easy for her, or whoever grabbed her, to jettison the armor once she was aboard in order to make it look like she'd burned up in the atmosphere."

The silence hummed against Kaidan's senses as he groped for something to say. It all sounded so absolutely ludicrous…

"That ship that destroyed the _Normandy_," he finally ground out, "wasn't interested in taking prisoners. It cut through us like butter. I've never seen anything like it, but there sure as hell wasn't any boarding party. And Shepard's armor…" He stopped, inhaled quietly, steeling himself. "We always had the best of the best, Councilor, but no hardsuit would've kept her alive long enough for anyone else to pick her up."

"Maybe they didn't care whether she was alive or not."

His stomach somersaulted. The whole conversation was making him ill, and he wished not for the first time that the Citadel's office windows could open. He glanced to the door that led to Anderson's small balcony and stood abruptly. "I'm sorry, sir, I… need some air."

The Councilor followed him at a distance as he stepped out and went to the railing. He leaned over it, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. The Presidium's artificial day cycle was just beginning to show signs of dawn, the light pale against his eyelids as he let the breeze wash over him.

"I know this is difficult for you, Alenko," Anderson said quietly from somewhere to his left. "But we need to consider all the angles on this one."

Kaidan took a few more breaths, then nodded once. "I guess it's possible someone else could have picked her up before she hit Alchera's atmosphere… alive or dead." He opened his eyes, looking over to Anderson. "The pods' sensors wouldn't have been able to detect any other ship in orbit from the ground unless it directly hailed us. We wouldn't have ever known if one had come by or not. But… _why_? Why would anyone… do that?"

Anderson shrugged, joining Kaidan at the railing. "Commander Shepard was a powerful symbol for humanity. Almost everyone has heard of her, almost every species knows who she is and what she's done."

Kaidan straightened, crossing his arms. "And yet no one took our warnings about the Reapers seriously."

The older man grunted. "I did, Commander. I'm doing all I can, but I got my hands full… honestly, I probably could have done more for Shepard's case if she hadn't of suggested I become the first human Councilor."

Kaidan dropped his eyes to the long lake that shimmered faintly far below. "I know, sir. I didn't mean to sound like I was… I mean I didn't mean to suggest…"

"I know what you meant, Alenko. Trust me when I say I share your frustration. But we'll get there… I won't go away till those idiots listen to reason. I can be a very persistent son-of-a-bitch when I need to be. But right now, well, I need to figure out what the hell is going on with Shepard. I can think of a few organizations who would like to claim their activities have her support."

Kaidan glanced over to the man with an arched brow, failing to comprehend how possession of Shepard's body would grant anyone the image of being supported by her. The technology already existed to create virtual composites of her face, body, attitudes, and voice. He'd seen such things himself, from the Systems Alliance no less, employing her reputation to boost their recruitment numbers. It was bad enough to hear her voice on street ads, echoing back as if from the grave, bad enough to see her picture plastered all over billboards and popping up on commercials anytime he dared to watch galactic news.

It brought a sour taste to his mouth to think that an organization less reputable than the Alliance might take advantage of her image as well in order to condone less-than-savory campaigns.

Anderson handed him a datapad, and Kaidan took it reluctantly. A report from a nameless covert operative stationed on Omega filled the screen, and as he skimmed it the quiet morning around him faded away. One line above all else stood out, burning into his consciousness: _Subject visually resembled Commander Elizabeth Shepard and appeared in the company of confirmed Cerberus operatives, however, motives and intent are unclear…_

He saw the attachment thumbnails; photos of the person the Alliance agent claimed looked like Shepard and the ship claimed to be the _Normandy_ resurrected. He tried to ignore the slight tremble in his hand as he tapped the tiny image tiles to open them.

Shepard's face filled the datapad's screen and Kaidan took a step back, nearly losing his grip on the device. An absurd urge to throw the thing over the railing gripped him and he wrestled it under control only with great difficulty. His mouth opened, but he had no words. He couldn't breathe. His eyes searched her face, drinking in the achingly familiar features, remembering all at once all the little things he'd thought he'd forgotten.

The delicate shape of her jaw, the determined set of her mouth, the line of her nose, the vivid green eyes in sharp contrast to the black, carefully parted hair, that sprinkling of freckles you could only really see if you managed to get close enough, the arch of her eyebrows….

He got stuck there. The scar on her left brow was missing. And now that he looked closer, he thought he could make out other scars, very faint, across her cheek. A strange sensation burst through his chest – a perfect mix of extreme relief and crushing despair. Not his Shepard. His Shepard was still dead.

But at least she wasn't a traitor.

"Not her," he blurted, his voice gruff. He shoved the datapad back into Anderson's hands and went to the railing, holding on for dear life.

"You're sure?"

"The scars are wrong," he said, sounding remarkably sane and collected. Not at all how he felt. "Shepard had a scar on her left eyebrow. The one she got on Mindoir."

Anderson studied the picture, frowning. "Huh. You're right. Good eyes, Alenko."

_That's what happens when you spend months staring at her, fighting with her, loving her…_ He swallowed hard, lifting his hands to massage his temples. Tension was building in the front of his skull, the beginnings of a migraine. _Perfect._ "Could be a clone," he suggested. "Could they do that?"

"Cerberus? If they somehow managed to get ahold of Shepard's genetic material, I wouldn't put it past them."

Cerberus. His mind flashed back to all the times they'd had run-ins with the organization's dirty deeds, and his anger flared. A biotic ripple made the hairs on his arms stand up, but he suppressed it. If Cerberus had somehow created their own Shepard... He wouldn't let that go. He'd find them, eventually. Take the new 1st Special Ops Biotics division and destroy them. Shepard's memory deserved that much, at least.

"You recall the briefing about the disappearing colonies?"

Kaidan pulled himself from his thoughts with effort. "Yes sir. People vanishing with no signs of struggle or fighting. Mostly colonies in the Terminus Systems. Cerberus suspected as responsible." He looked over to Anderson. "You think this Shepard and the missing colonists are related?"

"Honestly, I don't know what to think right now. But it's possible. Take a look at this." The man tapped a few buttons on the screen and handed the datapad back.

Kaidan looked down to see another ghost – the _Normandy_. He inhaled sharply. It was intact. Beautiful. New. Exact. No wait… not exact. Like his study of Shepard, he saw differences when he looked closer. This one was bigger. The letters SR2 had been painted on the side rather than SR1. And then there was the logo gracing its bow. The Cerberus logo.

"Cerberus built this?"

"It appears that way."

Alenko frowned heavily. "But… how could they do that and no one notice? Where would they get the resources? The money? The plans? Does this have a stealth drive too?"

"We're not sure yet, but our operatives are trying to find out. They're also looking into how the hell Cerberus could have constructed such a ship right under our noses. Obviously that is a rather large concern for everyone."

"Jesus," Kaidan hissed.

"That ship couldn't have been cheap," Anderson said. "And who knows what kind of trouble they went through to make a Shepard look-alike… or maybe they've just altered the real Shepard –"

"It's not her," Kaidan cut in, shaking his head. "No way. Not after Akuze… not after the things we saw Cerberus doing. She'd never work for them."

The Councilor looked at him for a moment, then nodded gravely. "I want you on this one, Alenko. I know it's been awhile, but you were a part of her core team during the fight against Saren, and we've lost track of the others. That kind of insight is what I need in this situation. We're not certain this new _Normandy_ and new Shepard are connected to the disappearing colonies, but Cerberus is definitely up to something. Our agents keep finding their ships and their people snooping around after colonists go missing, and that's got to be more than coincidence.

"Our analysts have predicted the colony of Horizon is most likely to be hit next given the pattern of previous abductions. I'm sending you there, Alenko, with a detachment of marines. Your cover will be to install defense towers and AA guns for the colony in the hopes of warding off an attack, but I also want you to be watching. Keep tabs on the colonists, look for anyone who might be feeding colony information to questionable outside sources. Look for Cerberus activity. And if the colony_ is_ attacked, let us know what the hell is going on. Maybe you can even get a look at this Shepard character and shed some light on that, too. You'd be able to tell if she was a fake. Hell, maybe she's not even a real person… maybe she's just a hi-tech mech. There's just too many questions out there about all of this, and we need to start getting some answers."

Kaidan nodded out of habit, his eyes still riveted to the _Normandy_ duplicate on the datapad's screen. The pressure in his head was building, tracers beginning to shoot across his vision. Not long now till it got really bad and he'd be curled up in a ball wishing he could die. He sighed quietly.

"Horizon," he repeated. "You sure the locals will be okay with us bringing in guns?"

Anderson shrugged. "I imagine they'd prefer not to go missing. But it's a colony settled by people who prefer to live outside the reach of the law, so you never really know how they'll react to Alliance presence. We'll send you well-equipped, Alenko. But even so, you'll need to be careful."

"Understood, sir." He handed off the datapad.

"Take some time to prepare, Commander," Anderson suggested. "Take the morning off; the Biotics unit can wait a while. The official Horizon briefing is scheduled for 1500 today. You'll leave in the morning."

"Yes, sir."

"And good luck, Alenko." The man extended a hand and Kaidan shook it with the last of his energy.

"Thank you, sir."

He almost ran from the office. Not just because he hoped to get back to his apartment before he became an incoherent, thrashing mess of agony, but because he wanted to get as far away from that datapad – those pictures – that report – as possible.

It was such a sick, perverse, twisted form of irony that he could almost believe the universe was a sentient being, and that it really, truly hated him. The woman he had loved and lost, and mourned for two years, and finally, _finally_ maybe come close to putting to rest, had strolled right back into his life as if she'd never left. Only it wasn't really her. No, of course not. It was some kind of copy, or fake, or… something. And then on top of that, the imposter was actually working for Cerberus.

_Not the real Shepard. Not my Shepard. Can't be…_

He reached a lift and exhaled in relief as the doors closed with only him inside. He leaned into the corner, pressing his palms against his eyes. His fingers were starting to tingle, his lips growing numb. The pain had started in his head; a sharp, throbbing stab at the back of his skull that would only get worse with each passing minute. This was going to be a bad one. A really, really bad one.

He'd probably end up hurling into some trash receptacle along the way; or worse, in the backseat of the rapid transport.

Staff Commander Kaidan Alenko allowed himself to slide down to the floor, head in his hands, and groaned. _Fuck my life._


	9. Loyalty

**Loyalty**

* * *

Not much surprised Councilor David Anderson these days.

He'd been on the front lines as humanity had discovered they weren't alone in the universe, and then survived the resulting war. He'd managed to make it through the mess at Sidon and weathered the rumors that had consequently sprung from Saren's lies. He'd waded the political bullshit regarding Shepard's warning of the Reapers and Saren's betrayal and had narrowly side-stepped disciplinary action for his part in allowing her to steal the _Normandy_. He'd fought and triumphed at the Battle of the Citadel. He'd fought and mostly triumphed over the fall-out that had come after Shepard's death, doing the best he could to keep her memory untarnished. And now, as the first human Councilor, he'd negotiated more deals and treaties and trade agreements than he'd ever thought possible. He'd heard some of the most ridiculous proposals, fielded some of the stupidest questions, and listened to some of the most trivial tales he never would have tolerated two years ago. After so long in the service, and now so long in the political arena, he felt he had a pretty good grasp on things. He felt he'd seen and heard pretty much everything.

Even news of Shepard's reappearance and the sight of the pictures that had proved it hadn't thrown him all that much. Whether that was because an insane, irrational part of him had never believed Commander Elizabeth Shepard could have really been killed in a ship explosion, of all things, or whether it was just because he knew the technology existed to build a new Shepard, or make someone else entirely look like her, given the right materials and time, he didn't know.

He supposed it didn't really matter.

What mattered was that an Alliance operative had managed to get a message to her, from Anderson, asking her to meet with him on the Citadel. Call it his own little test to see if it was really her or not. And if it _was_ her, to test her loyalties. Her response would tell him volumes.

Except… there hadn't been any response. Not for weeks. So he'd taken the next step and gone to Alliance Command. Hatched the Horizon plan. Called in Alenko. The man's assertions that this new Shepard wasn't the real Shepard were reassuring. Almost entirely convincing. Alenko should know, after all. He'd gotten rather close to Commander Shepard during their time on the _Normandy_. Too close, in fact. Much too close.

Anderson still wasn't sure how, despite their feelings for each other, Shepard and Alenko had managed to keep things in perspective through so many dangerous missions. There had been a few fuzzy moments, to be sure, the most glaring of which came after Alenko's botched mission to investigate AHAB, when Shepard had refused to send the man to an Alliance hospital and instead insisted he stay on the _Normandy_. But in the end, when it had really mattered, they had both performed their duties to the letter. And Alenko had come out the other side a better marine. Maybe not a better man, but a better marine, definitely. He'd sort out this Shepard and Cerberus mess one way or another, Anderson had no doubt about that.

And so, three days after he'd sent Alenko off to Horizon, Councilor Anderson was in no way whatsoever expecting a personal visit from the so-called Shepard creation herself. When his door chime rang and he told the person to enter without even looking up from his terminal, he never in a thousand years would have guessed she'd be the one he'd see upon finally lifting his head. Yet there she stood, looking strange in civilian clothes and ridiculous in the hat she'd tugged low over her brow, and Councilor Anderson found himself completely and utterly shocked for the first time in a great many years.

His right hand dropped beneath his desk to the pistol he kept clamped there. After more than twenty years as a marine, he didn't go anywhere without a gun… no matter what C-Sec said.

She snapped him a rigid salute and stood at attention. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Anderson blinked, entirely at a loss for words. Also for the first time in a great many years.

How could she just walk in like that, and salute like that, and ask that question… just like nothing had ever happened? He finally closed his gaping mouth and swallowed, sat back in his chair. But kept his hand on his gun. He looked her up and down, a queasy unease rolling through his stomach. If not for what Alenko had said about her scars, he would have believed he was looking at the real thing. Her features, her stance, her salute…

But there was something else in her face, something different besides the scars. A tightness around her eyes, lines around her mouth, tension in her body that he never remembered seeing before. At least not while she was ever standing in his office.

"Yes," he said slowly, releasing his hold on his pistol. He stood from his chair, moving around his desk to get a better look at her. "At ease, Shepard." She morphed effortlessly into a parade rest, but the tension was still there. Almost like a feral animal, trapped and cornered but wanting to flee. Anderson frowned. "I sent you that message weeks ago. I thought you weren't coming."

"I'm sorry, sir. It took me awhile to… be sure our conversation wouldn't be compromised by outside sources."

Anderson quirked an eyebrow. "Cerberus?"

Her green eyes flickered over to him briefly before resuming their stare out his window. "Yes sir."

The Councilor rubbed his chin. The questions were so overwhelming he could hardly decide where to start. He cleared his throat. "Shepard… you are aware that the Alliance Navy has you listed as Killed In Action?"

Her eyes dropped to the floor and she nodded once. "Yes sir."

"Then I think you have some explaining to do."

She nodded again and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Anderson rolled his eyes, waving a hand impatiently. "Damn it, Shepard, none of this makes any damn sense anyway – drop the formalities. And sit down or something, would you?"

"Thank you, sir." She did not sit down. Instead she began to pace back and forth across his office, hands clasped behind her back, frowning. The same thing she used to do as his XO on the _Normandy_, when attempting to find a solution to a particularly tough problem. Anderson squinted at her, the unease coming back full force.

"Sir, this is going to sound impossible," she began in a rush, "and I don't have much time before they trace me again –"

"They?" Anderson repeated. "You mean Cerberus?"

"Yes sir." She barreled ahead before he could question her further on the matter. "I need to tell someone in the Alliance what happened. And when I got your message - I can't tell you how relieved I was to hear from you. I wasn't sure how the Alliance would react to my… reappearance."

Anderson gave a little shrug that belied the importance of their conversation. "I preferred to give you the benefit of the doubt. Though I'll be honest with you, not many of the Alliance brass share my feelings, except for maybe Admiral Hackett. Most consider you too much of a liability, and one with questionable loyalties at that."

Shepard stopped pacing, looking at him with eyes that flashed a pain so profound he took a step back. But then it was gone, replaced again by a hard, tense mask of concentration. "I see," she said quietly. "That is… understandable. In that case, thank you for giving me the opportunity to explain myself."

He nodded wordlessly, rendered mute once again.

She rubbed her eyes, then resumed pacing. "Sir… the reports from my crew were correct. I died above Alchera." She sounded spent, exhausted. "I don't remember it. I remember the _Normandy_ being attacked, and then woke up two years later."

"Woke up?"

"Yes. Cerberus recovered my body," she choked on the words, "and… resurrected me." She grimaced, shaking her head. "I still don't know exactly what to make of it, but I've seen some of their project logs and medical data and… it's an adequate description of what happened. They built on what survived of my body, used some cloning technology to build organs and muscle, some cybernetics to replace what they couldn't grow. It took a lot of time – a full two years – and billions of credits, but they did it. Somehow. I still don't fully understand myself. It's… crazy."

Anderson opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

"I'm working on gathering data on the project to pass off to you. The Lazarus Project, they call it." She snorted a derisive laugh. "Fitting, huh? I'll try to get whatever information I can on the cell responsible, and anything else I can find on Cerberus as well. I hope that will help prove I'm telling the truth about this, and maybe put concerns over my loyalty to rest, too."

Anderson could only blink at her.

"Sir." She stopped pacing again, looking him straight in the eye, deadly serious. "I've seen the Collectors."

His arms dropped to his sides, his spine stiffening. "_What_?"

"Video surveillance from Freedom's Progress clearly shows them abducting the colonists. They have these… swarms of insects, not sure if they're mechanical or organic, but they paralyze people. That's why there's never any evidence of a fight. The colonists are literally unable to fight back. The Collectors put them into some kind of pods and take them away. I don't know where, and I don't know why, but I'm going to find out."

Anderson lifted his hands, shaking his head. "Whoa, whoa Shepard, slow down. I…" He sighed, running his hands over his shortly cropped hair. "I'm sorry, but I can't even be sure you're the real Elizabeth Shepard yet. And now you bring the Collectors into this, and Cerberus…"

Her lips formed a hard line. "I don't like it either, sir. It's not an ideal situation, not by a long shot. But they gave me a ship and a crew, and I can't just sit by and let more people get taken. Not when I have the chance to do something to help them."

Anderson scoffed. "The Shepard I knew would have never trusted a Cerberus crew."

She looked genuinely uncomfortable for the first time since entering his office, shifting on her feet and dropping her eyes to the floor. "I _don't_ trust Cerberus," she admitted. "But most of my crew is former Alliance, sir."

The Councilor failed to keep the surprise off his face. This story just kept getting stranger and stranger.

"If you can give me an Alliance ship and an Alliance crew, I'll leave Cerberus right this minute," she said suddenly.

Anderson stared at her and she held his gaze, her expression carefully controlled. But he read a challenge in the set of her jaw, and maybe even a glimmer of hope in her eyes. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "Shepard," he blurted, "you know I can't do that. You're still listed as KIA, you've been associating with a known terrorist organization, and I can't even be sure you really are who you say you are… the logistics would be a nightmare… I'm sorry, but that's impossible."

She straightened, swallowed visibly. Her hands clenched into fists. "I'm sorry, too," she whispered. "In that case, I have no choice but to continue my mission as it is."

Anderson crossed his arms. "And what exactly _is_ your mission?"

She abruptly began to pace again. "Originally, to find out what's happening to the colonists who've gone missing. Now that I know that answer, I need to find out why. And how to stop it from happening again. And if there's any connection to the Reapers."

Her constant movement was beginning to wear on Anderson's nerves. He considered calling for a C-Sec team to arrest her. She _was_ working for Cerberus, after all, by her own admission… and then he'd have her contained. He could get the proof he needed to determine whether or not she was telling the truth, and not have to worry about what she might do with a _Normandy_-style ship in the meantime.

She stopped pacing just as suddenly, briefly lighting up an omni-tool. The Councilor tensed, wishing for a moment he'd kept a hold of his pistol. But then the device flickered off again and she sighed. "I don't have much time left, sir. I will try to get you those files on Cerberus as soon as possible. Until then… well. I hope you can give me the benefit of the doubt for a little while longer."

Anderson raised his eyebrows.

"Thank you for not arresting me on sight, sir. I'll try to keep in touch." She saluted again, about-faced, and strode quickly for the door, but pulled up short just before leaving. She hesitated, then finally turned around to face him again.

"Sir… Lieutenant Alenko…"

The Councilor's stomach wrenched. Was it possible to clone memories? Attitudes? Feelings? Maybe it was just a coincidence. His eyes narrowed, watching her carefully.

"Commander Alenko," she corrected. "Does he… does he know I'm alive?"

Anderson rubbed a hand over his jaw. It was bizarrely surreal, to have had both of them in his office in such a short amount of time, yet still so far removed from each other.

"He knows that a person who looks like Commander Elizabeth Shepard is alive," he finally answered.

She was silent for a moment. Nodded slowly. "Thank you, sir." And then she left.

Just like that.

Anderson frowned, watching after her for a good long minute before rousing himself into action. He went back to his desk, reaching for the comm to call C-Sec. They could probably still catch her. He knew what she was wearing, and he was pretty sure the _Normandy_'s well-known profile would make it easily found at the docks.

But his hand stilled before touching the quick-call key. What if she was telling the truth?

He drew his hand back, collapsing down into his chair instead. He sighed heavily, his fingers tapping restlessly against the top of his desk. Damn it all, he was inclined to believe her. Why would an imposter give him information on Cerberus? Unless it was false information, meant to lead the Alliance on a wild goose chase while the organization accomplished their real mission.

Still, if she _was_ telling the truth… what good would it do to lock her up? If she had the chance to stop further abductions of human colonists… who was he to stop her? Maybe she could accomplish what the Council and Alliance Command together had not yet even decided on, like she had so many times before.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to give her a little more time. Wait and see what kind of information she fed him. Check its validity against what his agents already had on Cerberus. Give her a chance to do what she said she was going to do, to prove her story.

Because if she _was_ telling the truth…

Anderson shook his head, swiveling in his chair to look out his window at the Presidium. He thought of Commander Alenko and the marines who had just left for Horizon.

_What the hell have I sent them into?_


	10. Priorities

**A/N:** Sorry for the slight delay in posting this chapter... it needed a major overhaul. :P And thanks to my beta sinvraal for pointing out that it needed a major overhaul! Heheh. I will also take this time to say thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed and added Author or Story alerts! Your enthusiasm for the story really helps keep it flowing along!

* * *

**Priorities**

* * *

There were times when Joker wished he could pace without the worry of breaking a leg. Or tripping and falling on his face and breaking other things besides a leg. Like maybe both legs. Or an arm, some ribs, and his skull, perhaps. The Cerberus-funded surgeries had reinforced his bones enough that he could actually _walk_ of his own accord without crutches, which was near a miracle in and of itself. But that didn't mean he was now unbreakable, and he had no wish to test his new thresholds with such trivial and unnecessary acts as pacing simply to occupy his pent-up nervous energy.

But _damn_ if he didn't envy the rest of the people on this boat sometimes. They could _do_ stuff to vent their energy… punch a wall, punch someone's jaw, jog, pace, and… other activities he preferred to pretend he didn't know about. He, on the other hand, was pretty much stuck sitting around on his ass, doing none of those things. Swimming was the extent of his physical prowess, and Cerberus had not seen fit to include a pool on the _Normandy SR-2_. Now that he thought about it, he would have to ask Operative Lawson about that.

Why not include a pool for the best fucking pilot in the Alliance? No, the best fucking pilot in the Alliance _and_ Cerberus? He deserved it for all the times he'd pulled them out of close scrapes, didn't he?

In the absence of a pool, his only outlet was pushing the limits of his ship. It was, after all, just an extension of himself. Sure, most pilots claimed to feel that way, but for Joker… it was actually _true_. His personal lack of mobility translated into what some called a "magical ability" to pilot a starship. When he couldn't push himself, he pushed his ship.

Or at least he _had_, until Operative Lawson had taken issue with some of his third-shift maneuvers, marched coolly into the cockpit, and proceeded to deliver a blistering lecture about the stress thresholds of the hull and the cost of replacing drive cores and did he really want to tear the ship apart and send Shepard – who, by the way, Joker happened to know was sitting calmly in the mess, expertly catching hold of her mug of coffee at just the right moment to keep it from toppling off the table - into space again?

_That_ had stung.

And so, the next time Lawson had gone for a shower when the ship was not docked or in FTL drive, Joker had promptly initiated a few of the "bat-shit insane" exercises she had forbid him to ever again attempt. The idea of her slip-sliding around in her fancy private shower had been uproariously funny. To his surprise, she had not rushed directly to the cockpit to deliver yet another lecture at the end of his stunt. So he had, of course, gleefully planned on torturing her with such antics whenever possible. Except, at his next opportunity, when he'd tried to flip the _SR-2_ around hard enough to make showering very, very difficult, he'd found himself locked out of all main ship systems.

Joker shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the panic of those endless ten minutes of complete unresponsiveness still a raw memory. Utter helplessness at the helm of his ship was Jeff Moreau's own personal nightmare. At the time, he hadn't known what was wrong or how to fix it, and EDI had only offered a maddening "a block prevents me from answering that question" when he had demanded she help him diagnose the problem. But then, just as suddenly as it had been taken away, control had been restored to him, and everything went back to normal.

Lawson had caught his eye later that day in the mess, and her steady but meaningful look had brought realization crashing down on him. _She'd_ locked him out. A quick, careful, surgical strike to show him that she could cut his legs out from under him just as easily and much more efficiently than the Cerberus doctors who had helped him to walk.

He didn't like that at all.

He had made his unhappiness clear by warning all crew except Lawson before conducting his next Shepard-approved combat drill – which was conveniently scheduled during the Cerberus operative's sleeping hours. He had no way of knowing if he had actually succeeded in tossing her out of bed, but he'd certainly done his best.

She had not lectured him for that, either. She _had_ locked him out of the _Normandy_'s systems again, though. For very much longer than ten minutes. Not long enough to jeopardize their mission or compromise the ship, but long enough that Shepard herself had come to the cockpit wondering what in the hell he was doing with his time. He'd heard the commander dress down marines before, but despite his smart mouth and sometimes reckless tactics, she'd never directed that level of active displeasure at _him_.

Until that day.

That had been infinitely worse than any lecture Lawson could have delivered, maybe even worse than losing control of his ship.

And then he had discovered his on-board extranet access had been cut off, and he'd been locked out of the Port Observatory, preventing access to the bar. His life had been a living hell for a week, culminating with the morning his sleeper pod wouldn't open. If there had ever been a time Joker thought he might actually lose it, that was it. Even having the original _Normandy_ torn apart around him couldn't come close to the overwhelming terror that had gripped him while stuck in that pod.

Garrus and Engineer Donnelly had eventually freed him, and he'd gotten as far away from the damn thing as he could get. And then he'd seen Lawson, standing in the corner, giving him that look again, one side of her mouth just barely curved upward.

He shuddered, pushing the memories away. Yes, unfortunately, his days of conducting "bat-shit insane" maneuvers were over. And messing with Lawson to occupy himself was also no longer an option. He still couldn't bring himself to sleep in those pods. He'd been sleeping in his chair ever since, damn her.

Joker heaved a very dramatic sigh and leaned back in his chair, throwing up his hands in surrender. "Seriously, EDI, I thought you said your processing power was ten times that of a regular ship-board VI?"

Her blue sphere of an avatar materialized from the bulkhead beside him. He often wondered why Cerberus had opted for a blue sphere instead of something more pleasant. Like Avina on the Citadel. Why not go that route? A pretty human female avatar would be far more preferable to talk to than a boring, faceless blue ball.

"That is correct, Mr. Moreau," the boring, faceless blue ball acknowledged.

"Then how come it's taking so long?" he demanded.

"It has only been forty-three point three five two nine seconds and counting since I began data analysis, Mr. Moreau."

"That's about thirty seconds longer than I thought it would take you," Joker muttered.

"I could compile the data significantly faster had you provided me with more defined search parameters," EDI offered. "I cannot determine Commander Alenko's location with one hundred percent accuracy given the limited information you provided. If you were to include input that outlined covert Alliance operations –"

"Hell no," Joker interrupted, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. Not while you're still connected to that freak with the flashy eyes. I don't know that stuff, anyway. It's classified, you know. Surely you know what classified means? I haven't been a member of the Alliance for a while now… they don't really like to share that kind of information with people like me."

"It is my understanding that you have obtained limited classified information through contact channels you had previously established during your time with the Alliance," EDI said.

Joker looked to her sharply.

"There is no other way you could have come to three of the conclusions which you entered into my search paradigms," EDI explained simply. "I have already scanned and processed all relevant publicly-available Alliance information, and the events and locations you entered were not obtainable."

He narrowed his eyes at the sphere, feeling a burn of embarrassment creeping in beneath his collar at having been caught so easily. Goddamn computers and their near-instantaneous access to information...

"If you would like, I can attempt to hack Alliance encryption to gain access to classified –"

"No!" Joker blurted, horrified by the thought. "Wait… could you do that?"

"The probability of success is minimal without proper code reference, but given enough time –"

"No," Joker cut her off again. "No no no, don't do that." Well, at least Cerberus would have to _work_ to gain entrance to classified Alliance files…

"But Mr. Moreau, without such information, my estimate of Commander Alenko's location will only be –"

"Ninety eight point eight five three percent accurate," Joker finished for her. "Yes, I know. Trust me, EDI, that's fine."

"Very well. In that case, I have finished compiling the data."

Joker sat up in his chair. "Really? Where is he?"

"Horizon. It is the third planet of the Iera System in the Shadow Sea Cluster."

Joker frowned. "Horizon? What in the hell is he doing _there_?"

"That question was not a part of my search parameters, Mr. Moreau. However, if you would like me to calculate -"

"No no, just forget it. Rhetorical question."

"I do not understand the purpose of –"

"Can you download your findings onto my datapad?"

"Of course, Mr. Moreau…. Done."

"Thanks, EDI. Watch the ship, would ya? I need to find Shepard."

"Commander Shepard is currently in the Port Observatory," EDI offered.

Joker rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, EDI." At least he could get into the Port Observatory again now. He leveraged himself out of his chair, grabbed the datapad, and hobbled from the cockpit.

* * *

Elizabeth Shepard had come to the Port Observatory with the intention of getting very drunk. A luxury she had not indulged in since… that time after the defeat of Sovereign. After she'd healed from her injuries, and finally taken a little shore leave. She and Kaidan had escaped back to Earth for a few days, just the two of them. Spent some time on a real beach with some real alcohol. They had both gotten quite sloshed. Stared at the full moon for hours. Told each other embarrassing stories from their youth with none of the usual weight of the past in their voices. Made love so fierce and so goddamned good that it still made her shiver to think about it.

She glanced down to the scars that still crawled around her wrists and up her forearms. Her right hand moved from her untouched drink to trace the fading lines. She could still remember so much… all the same as it was before Alchera. Surely that meant she was really alive? Surely that meant she was really still herself? The same Elizabeth. Maybe altered internally, like the _SR-2_, but at her core, still the same. Right?

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead.

_He knows I'm alive. Why hasn't he tried to contact me? Doesn't he want to know if it's really me? Doesn't he care?_

The door hissed open behind her and Elizabeth jumped, spinning around on her stool to face the intruder with a murderous glare.

Joker barely hesitated before making his way over to her. "Sorry, Commander," he quipped. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Elizabeth grunted. "You didn't _scare_ me. I was just… surprised. I thought you were flying the ship."

"EDI took over for a minute," he said, placing himself carefully on the stool beside her. "I had to deliver this news to you personally."

Her pulse quickened. "What news?"

He grinned, obviously very pleased with himself. "I found him."

Shepard blinked. "Found who?"

Joker placed a datapad in front of her. "I found Alenko."

Her throat closed up at the mention of his name. She tore her eyes from Joker's face and looked down to the datapad, skimming the report: Based on provided search parameters, relevant Alliance resource allocations, and recent marine battalion movements, Commander Alenko's location was estimated, with a ninety eight point eight five three percent accuracy, to be on Horizon, the third planet in the Iera System of the Shadow Sea Cluster. She stared at the screen for a long moment, desperate hope clashing with suspicion in her chest.

She swallowed hard. "Joker… how did you…?"

He shrugged. "Called in a few favors, had EDI run the math."

A look crossed her face and his arms flew up in defense.

"Hey relax!" he sputtered. "I didn't give her anything that would compromise the Alliance or any of its members, trust me."

She eyed him for a second longer before deciding he told the truth. She sighed, looking back to the datapad and chewing at her bottom lip. "Horizon, huh? How long would it take us to get there?"

"Not long. A few hours, tops."

She nodded, considering. Thoughts of Kaidan had been haunting her since the day she'd woken up on Lazarus Station. It wasn't just that he wasn't there; it was the fact he'd thought her dead for two years. It was the realization that unlike her, he had felt every moment of every day of those two years. It was the possibility that he had moved on, found someone else.

He had attended her funeral, seen her buried, mourned, achieved some level of closure. She'd had none of that. To her, so much time had passed in only a few moments.

One way or another, she needed to know where she stood with him. She needed her own closure. She couldn't imagine what his reaction might be to seeing her again, but any reaction was better than wallowing in this miserable uncertainty.

"All right," she said slowly. "Horizon it is, then."

"Aye aye, Commander," Joker said with unusual enthusiasm. "I'll go lay in the course." He slid off his stool and disappeared through the door with surprising speed.

Shepard shook her head, looking back to her still-full beverage. Well, this was either going to make things a hell of a lot better… or a hell of a lot worse. She grimaced and threw back her drink.

_Here goes nothing._

* * *

Miranda Lawson silently disapproved of going to Horizon. She watched Shepard muse over the galaxy map from the corner of the CIC, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. She would have voiced her objections had Shepard not replaced her as XO the instant Vakarian had set foot aboard the _Normandy_. And that wouldn't have stopped her from voicing her objections except the Illusive Man had ordered her to maintain Alliance-style ranks and regulations, and had stressed that Shepard was to be allowed to do things her way on this mission. Still, Miranda was used to being a cell leader. She was used to being the organizer, the planner, the instigator, the manager. And while Cerberus analysts had predicted Horizon would be the next colony to be attacked by the Collectors; it would be a mistake to go there so soon. Getting there once the Collectors had arrived was one thing, but going beforehand would be a waste of time. Their mission parameters had not taken into account any time for Shepard to chase after her ex-boyfriend.

The Illusive Man had known Commander Alenko was on Horizon a few days ago and had alerted Lawson to this fact. They had briefly discussed a course of action and had concluded that telling Shepard about this information would only serve as a distraction. Worst-case scenario, Alenko would join Shepard's team, thereby placing an active Alliance marine smack-dab in the middle of a Cerberus operation, and emotionally-compromising Shepard, as well. Of course they had made a contingency plan, just in case. But Miranda hadn't thought it would come to that.

Now… it was getting uncomfortably close to being a possibility.

And all because of that meddlesome pilot. She had been against Jeff Moreau's appointment to the S_R-2 _since the beginning. He was too impulsive. Too unpredictable. No, that wasn't entirely true…his reactions to some of her displays of authority had been entirely predictable. At least he had learned his place now. That was the thing about Jeff Moreau - he didn't always play well with others. However, he seemed to be getting along all right with the rest of the crew, which was more than she had expected of him.

She had to trust the Illusive Man when it came to letting Shepard run the show, just like she had with the addition of Joker… and she did. It wasn't really so much a matter of trust - she could handle Mr. Moreau and Commander Alenko if she had to – but more a matter of personal preference. Not having to handle Mr. Moreau would have made her job all that much easier. Not having to handle Mr. Moreau _and_ Commander Alenko would keep her job _enormously_ easier. The paperwork explaining why an Alliance marine had to be eliminated during an operation was a nightmare, not to mention the resources that would have to be applied to make it all seem like an accident, plus the endless hours of assuring board members that everything was still legit and they had no reason to worry about retaliation from the Alliance…

It made her head hurt just thinking about it.

Shepard finished authorizing the course change and stepped down from the galaxy map. But her boots had not so much as hit the deck when Yeoman Chambers' terminal flashed with an incoming hail. The woman's fingers tapped the keyboard to see the transmission source, and then she turned to Shepard.

"Commander, the Illusive Man is on the comm for you. It's marked as urgent."

Miranda lifted an eyebrow. Good. Maybe he'd have a priority mission for her. Something that demanded they leave immediately, something that would delay a pointless trip to the Iera System.

Shepard sighed mightily, rolling her eyes. "Fine," she snapped. "I'm on my way." She disappeared into the communications room.

Lawson wasn't sure how long of a conversation it would be, but she wasn't going to leave until she found out what was going on. So she settled herself back against the wall and brought up her omni-tool, scanning through the most recent _SR-2_ inventories and procurement requests.

The sound of the door opening again not five minutes later greatly surprised her, and she glanced up from her reports only to see Shepard practically run from the comm room, wearing an expression Miranda had not yet seen on the woman: alarm.

"Horizon's gone silent," she announced to the CIC, then kicked on the PA system. "All personnel assume battle-stations. We are en-route to possible hot zone, Collectors assumed responsible. Repeat, all personnel to battle-stations." She clicked off the PA, then yelled up to the cockpit amidst a flurry of activity from the crew around her. "Double-time it, Moreau!"

"You got it, Commander," he shouted back, and Miranda wisely caught hold of the nearest support beam just before the inertial dampeners lagged long enough to make her stumble.

"Mordin better have something ready," Shepard muttered to herself, whisking past Miranda to vanish into the salarian's research lab.

Lawson powered down her omni-tool, heading for her quarters to do some research of her own. The Collectors on Horizon already? Just before Shepard was about to go there herself? Really? Either that was some kind of coincidence, or the Illusive Man had once again proven his brilliance. Regardless, the mission to Horizon had been given a worthwhile purpose. However it ended, it would be a good motivational tool for Shepard. If Commander Alenko was taken, it would give Shepard all the more determination to find the Collectors' base of operations and discover the reason behind the abductions as quickly as possible. And if he was killed… well, perhaps Shepard's demonstrated tendency toward desire for revenge would fuel her pursuit.

A win-win for Cerberus all around.

Feeling far more optimistic, Miranda stepped lightly into the lift and hit the button for Deck Three.


	11. Stand

**A/N:** And so begins the infamous Horizon incident... in keeping with the whole idea of this fic, I have rewritten it quite extensively to better fit with my idea of how things should have happened, instead of how they did happen. I will be interested to see what all of you think of my interpretation! Also I must give special thanks to my friend Captain William Viegas, who has acted as my military consultant both here and in previous instances with my other stories. I wanted to show exactly what kind of a job this was for Kaidan (and also I put armor on Miranda and Jacob because... I mean come on, no one goes into battle in simply their uniform!). Anyway, I hope you like my version of events, and thanks so much again for reading and reviewing!

* * *

**Stand**

* * *

Twelve days. Twelve days on Horizon, and Kaidan could safely say he despised the place. He swore virulently as his omni-tool blurted at him, flashing a red-framed dialogue box warning that the action could not be completed. For probably the first time ever, he wished the omni-tool was not embedded into his armor so he could hurl it with great force at the base of the GARDIAN gun looming above him.

Instead, he forced himself to take a breath and then unsealed his helmet, tossing it to the grass at his feet. He swiped a forearm across the sweat dripping from his face and silently cursed the writers of Horizon's travel blurb, obviously meant for happily clueless would-be settlers. A surface temperature of thirteen degrees Celsius his ass. Every day so far had maxed out at twice that temp, and the thick atmosphere only held in the heat, making it feel even worse. Of course running around in full armor didn't help things. Full armor probably wasn't completely necessary, and mostly he had tried to avoid wearing it on a daily basis. It just made the locals all the more anxious.

But after having rocks thrown at him yesterday by some of the colony's youth and the egging of his HQ building last night… he was inclined to wear a hardsuit for the remainder of his visit. He was inclined to take his marines and get the hell off this planet, in fact; leave these ungrateful colonists to fend for themselves just like they wanted. But… of course he couldn't do that. He had a job to do. And he would do it.

So he brought up his omni-tool again, brought up the targeting calibration matrix again, and told it to run. Again. This whole operation had been a nightmare, from the moment they'd set foot on Horizon soil. The locals had protested from the start, saying they had never asked for Alliance "help", they had moved to the Terminus System to get away from the Alliance's "meddling", they could take care of themselves, and didn't the Alliance think that giant guns pointing into the sky would make them _more _of a target for any hostile forces wishing to attack human colonies? Then there had been unloading, moving, and assembling the guns, organizing and setting up sea-base, assigning batteries to guard the guns, mapping platoon patrols… also done under a constant barrage of questions and protests, and some active aggression. Aside from the rocks and the eggs, some of their supply crates had been welded shut on the second day. Fuel stolen on the third day. A massive tree cut to fall across the road they needed to use on the fifth day. And now… this.

Kaidan rubbed a hand over his chin as the calibration program failed to run yet again. This was… not normal. His engineers assured him it was not a problem inherent to the guns. It was not a hardware malfunction, nor a software glitch. It had to be sabotage.

A truly masterful hacking job.

He'd seen a lot of hacking jobs, especially during his time on the _Normandy_. He'd done a lot of hacking jobs… especially during his time on the _Normandy_. But this one he couldn't crack, and he'd been at it for three days. His engineers couldn't crack it. His techs couldn't crack it. The commander had a sinking feeling the only one who could crack it was the person who had written it. And the guns wouldn't work until they figured out how to crack it. And if the guns didn't work, his mission wasn't finished. And if his mission wasn't finished, he wasn't going anywhere.

He was beginning to think maybe Cerberus really was involved.

He sighed, shutting off his useless omni-tool, and turned to lean his shoulder against the base of the gun. Chief Jamie Henderson, one of his computer specialists, was hunched over the console of the power generator. "Anything?" Kaidan asked, though he already knew the answer.

The chief shook his head. "No, sir. Not yet."

"All right, keep at it. I'm going to go see about getting some local support."

Henderson gave a snort. "Good luck, sir."

"Yeah, thanks," Kaidan answered dryly, already heading away toward his gravcar. The spaceport was at the edge of the capital city of Discovery; walking back would have taken hours, and he didn't have that kind of time to waste. Sometimes being the officer in charge had its perks. Sometimes.

There were a few city officials who were relatively friendly toward him and his men. He would just have to appeal to them to talk some sense into the rest of the population, and reiterate the fact that his battalion wasn't going anywhere until the guns were operational. So if the people of Horizon really wanted the Alliance off their rock, they needed to help get the guns working.

He stopped at the car and keyed his hardsuit's comm to check in with Sergeant Valarie Wylam, the head of Outpost One. She had taken up position at the colony's perimeter, at the top of a bluff overlooking the valley. Her troops had assumed similar vantage points at various intervals, watching the people near the spaceport below through binoculars and sniper scopes, tracking movements and habits and schedules. They were also on rotation, keeping a thirty-seven point eight hour watch on the weapons from afar.

Thirty-seven point eight hours… what kind of planet had a thirty-seven _point eight_ hour day?

Of course, he'd had men right in front of the damn things night and day already and someone had still managed to fuck them up. It made him wonder if it had been an inside job. The thought turned his stomach, but he had to consider it. He had four hundred and fifty marines to keep track of here, and most of them he didn't know so well. It was time to start poring over their service records, arranging for battery rotations, possibly start conducting some interviews.

He _had_ to get to the bottom of this, and the sooner the better.

"Sergeant Wylam, what's your status?"

A burst of static cut through the comm and made him wince. He frowned, adjusting the frequency. "Sergeant Wylam, do you copy?" More static. He growled low in his throat, rolling his eyes. "You _have _to be shitting me."

He spotted Lilith Bosh, the colony's spaceport Facility Manager, heading his way through the usual crowd of dock workers. He met her halfway. "Are we having trouble with the communication satellites?"

A momentary frown crossed her face. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

Kaidan shook his head. "We've been working on the guns all day. Haven't touched the comms."

Lilith furrowed her brow, gesturing for him to follow her back toward the spaceport's main building, where her office was located. He fell into step beside her.

"Still having trouble with the targeting matrix?" she asked.

He shook his head, an exasperated breath escaping with his words. "Those defense towers are useless if we don't figure it out."

"I'm not sure how my staff can be of any help, but after we get the comm systems back on-line, I'll see what I can do."

Kaidan grunted. "I'd appreciate that. I'm surprised people haven't tried to blame the comm problems on me, too."

"People out here don't trust the Alliance," Lilith said, sounding genuinely regretful. "It's nothing personal."

"Yeah." He'd been reminding himself of that daily. He swiped at the sweat trying to run into his eyes. "How widespread is the comm outage?" he asked wearily.

"It's hard to tell. Maybe city-wide. Maybe colony-wide."

The commander's stride faltered, and Lilith turned to look at him curiously. "Is this a common problem?" he asked.

Lilith shook her head. "No. A few glitches now and then, of course, usually due to weather or some bug's rampage, but nothing of this magnitude before."

"Shit."

Now she looked really worried, and Kaidan briefly wished he'd been better at hiding his concern.

"Do you think it's something serious?" she asked, fear flickering behind her eyes.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, wishing like hell he could contact Wylam and ask if she could see anything out of place. "I need to check in with my –"

A rumble like thunder sounded from the sky behind him, and the Commander turned in surprise; he didn't remember seeing any storm clouds. But what met his gaze was not at all natural in design. The hull of a very large spaceship descended slowly from the heavens, creating a violent atmospheric distortion that rolled across the valley, flashing lightning across the ship's exterior.

The people that had been busily going about their jobs on the docks stopped what they were doing and stared.

"That… is not one of our expected arrivals," Lilith said flatly.

Kaidan reached over his shoulder for his assault rifle, the whir of its unfolding lost in the noise of the descending ship. He felt his heartbeat in his throat, remembering what Anderson had said about the prediction that Horizon would be the next colony to be attacked.

It seemed the analysts were right. He was about to get a front row seat to the mystery of the vanishing colonists. But he wasn't going to lose them without a fight. Not on his watch. "Henderson!" he screamed over the thunder, and the chief whipped around, his weapon already out and primed. "Form a perimeter around the spaceport! Get all the colonists out! No enemy gets past the perimeter, understand?"

"Yes sir!" The man ran off to convey the order.

A dark, moving cloud detached itself from the ship, aiming right for them.

"What _is_ that?" one dock worker asked, but no one had an answer.

Kaidan lifted his rifle, sighting down the scope for a better look. He could barely make out the tiny shapes; they darted back and forth with blurring speed, but he swore they looked like insects. He would have thought they were indigenous lifeforms except for the fact they had clearly been released from the ship, and they were much too small for Horizon's insect population.

"Get everyone to the emergency bunkers," he told Lilith, aiming for the middle of the swiftly growing swarm. "Go, now!"

The burst of his rifle fire roused her into action, and the woman began shouting at the others to follow her. To his relief, they mostly seemed to listen. Kaidan gave them cover fire, but his rounds did little good. Very few of the bugs dropped to the ground; there was just too much empty space between them.

The swarm bore down on him and Kaidan hastily threw up a barrier, then scattered the closest cluster with a blast of dark energy. A few more hit the grass, but the rest swiftly regrouped and converged on him, bouncing off his barrier and back again. Their buzzing filled his head, making his teeth tingle. Now that he could see them up close – much too close – they didn't seem to be completely organic.

The ground beneath his feet thrummed as the foreign ship finally set down on land, and Kaidan swept another wave of bugs aside with a biotic lift only to recognize the vessel's shape in a flash of memory.

Alchera. Shepard…

His barrier fizzled as his concentration wavered and one of the bugs slipped through the weakened field, landing on his shoulder. The sharp prick in his neck that immediately followed brought the commander abruptly out of his shock and he swatted the insect away, swearing. His barrier flared full again and he crushed the offending pest beneath his boot. He brought up his rifle again, aiming for a swarm that followed a fleeing group of colonists.

But something was wrong. His body stiffened, his movements becoming very difficult. The bugs still buzzing around him suddenly flew away, seeking other targets. Kaidan tried to catch them in a biotic field, but his limbs wouldn't obey his mental commands. He tried to lower his rifle, but couldn't do that either. A strange sort of panic bloomed through his gut as he realized he couldn't move at all. He was frozen completely, paralyzed, his muscles tensed and unmoving.

He forced down the panic, focusing instead on logic. He could still move his eyes, and there was none of the mental grogginess usually associated with paralysis-inducing drugs. It had to be a local stasis field, somehow activated by the insect's sting. A tiny generator, perhaps, implanted beneath the skin. If he was very careful, it was possible he could deactivate it biotically. The trick, of course, would be to neutralize the stasis field without crushing himself.

He saw various other colonists, frozen mid-action like himself, rendered utterly helpless. Heard the screams and cries from others who could not outrun the swarms, and the near-constant chatter of weapons' fire from his marines, doing their best to protect the civilians.

Kaidan set his jaw, remembering the way that unidentified ship had so easily sliced through the original _Normandy_. It had taken everything from him that day. And then it had vanished, never to be seen again. Never to be explained. Never to face judgment for what it had done.

He was _not_ going to let it get away again.

* * *

Garrus watched Shepard carefully on the shuttle ride down to Horizon. She stood between the tank-bred krogan called Grunt and the former Alliance soldier Jacob Taylor, hanging on to a handlebar above her for balance as the aircraft burned through the planet's thick atmosphere. The _SR-2_ had picked up a strange ship's signal upon entering the Iera System, and Joker's face had gone as white as bone when he'd discovered it was the same ship that had shot them down over Alchera.

Shepard had gone quiet then. Hadn't spoken a word since they'd boarded the shuttle. She had her jaw clenched in the way he'd learned was similar to a turian's way of flexing mandibles, and through the visor of her helmet her green eyes stared somewhere far away.

His gaze flickered over to Miranda Lawson. He had been surprised when Shepard ordered the woman to come along. The commander's distrust of the Cerberus operative was clear, easily observed even during his short time aboard the new _Normandy_. He tapped a talon against the side of the assault rifle tucked in his arms, bracing himself as the shuttle finally broke free of atmospheric friction.

The mission was not progressing as he had expected. When Shepard had recruited him on Omega, he had thought joining her team would be much like it was before. As surprised as he had been to find she was alive, and as unbelievable as her story sounded, he knew immediately it was her. And with Shepard as their leader, even if the team had new members, they could not fail. They would stop the Collector attacks. They would root out the connection to the Reapers and fix that, too, making sure the galaxy was safe from extinction once again.

Except something was wrong. The ship's spirit was… sick. Not vibrant and courageous like it had been before. This new unit, this new team, had no spirit at all. They were all still individuals, with their own agendas and ambitions, still adrift and directionless, without a central pulling force to hold them together.

His eyes went back to Shepard. He had never seen her like this before. Perhaps Cerberus had not quite gotten everything right when they had put her back together. Perhaps it was the presence of Cerberus itself causing Shepard's unusual brevity. Or perhaps it was more a factor of Alenko's absence.

Garrus would never forget the day the three of them had stood in the Citadel Tower and faced down the Reaper-controlled, skeletal corpse of Saren Arterius. How Shepard had nearly sacrificed herself to save him and Alenko, how the lieutenant had almost killed himself trying to go after her when the roof had collapsed. He had watched the two of them interact through countless battles: Alenko bolstering his cautious tactical planning with an edge of Shepard's boldness; Shepard taming her sometimes-reckless charges with Alenko's calm and calculating strategies. They worked well together. The whole team had been of one mind, then, one spirit. And Shepard was their center.

Sometimes he had felt that Alenko was Shepard's center. And now, seeing her this way, he was only more certain of it. Death had yanked the two of them apart, but only one of them was given any time to feel the separation. As far as Garrus knew, Alenko had re-established his world without Shepard. But the commander herself still seemed to be searching for balance in a life drastically different from the one she had left over Alchera.

Until she found her footing and decided just where to stand, she couldn't be the center of anything. She couldn't hold a team together, much less hope to accomplish their mission successfully. Garrus' mandibles quivered as the shuttle swooped low over the outskirts of the city Discovery, looking for a suitable landing zone. He could only hope that whatever they found here, it would be enough to give Shepard direction again.

So many lives depended on it.


	12. Sanity

**Sanity**

* * *

_Not him not him not him please not him…_

The mantra echoed in her head in time with her pounding heart, drowning the sound of her weapon fire, the buzz of the Collectors' fibrous wings as more and more flew down to fight, the shouts of her team as they struggled for every inch of ground, moving with agonizing slowness toward the spaceport. They made quick sweeps of each area they cleared, taking samples of Collector ash, searching for dropped tech and weapons, gathering Intel on how this rarely-seen species operated, and checking vitals on any paralyzed colonists they found.

There were so many.

They found marines too, locked in combat action, and with each uniformed or armored male figure they spotted, her stomach crawled into her throat. But they hadn't found him yet.

The closer they came to the spaceport, the harder it was to ignore the desperation clawing at her insides. At least the people held in stasis were still alive; their vitals stable, if elevated by adrenaline, their eyes following her movements and pleading for help. There was nothing she could do for them yet, but she'd marked their locations on a map of the city and stored the coordinates on her omni-tool, along with the readings she'd taken of the stasis fields themselves. As soon as they re-established communications with the _Normandy_, she'd transmit the information to Dr. Solus. And as soon as the Collectors had been cleared from Horizon, she'd have him shuttle down personally and put his brilliance to work.

But then there were the pods. They had already opened a few only to discover more helplessly immobilized colonists and marines, terrified out of their wits. The Collectors had been taking pods toward the mothership when Shepard and her team had first landed; she could only assume that was meant to be the final destination for everyone trapped in stasis. And who knew what would happen to them once they were aboard that ship.

If she didn't find Kaidan on the ground, or in a pod…

Gravity heaved around her as she gathered a biotic surge, her body lighting up a brilliant blue. Five husks charged at her; too fast to shoot them all in time and too many to beat down with the butt of her rifle. Her left arm shot out just as they came within reach, a battle cry tearing from her throat as she released a concentrated biotic blast through her left hand straight into the lead husk's sternum.

All five glowing blue abominations flew backwards violently, smashing into the wall twenty yards behind with a sickening crunch and landing together in a motionless heap.

Shepard ducked down behind the nearest cover again and brought her shotgun across her lap, loading a fresh thermal clip. Sweat stung her eyes and made her under-armor cling to her skin. She made a mental note to tweak the controls on her hardsuit's cooling system, then popped up over the top of the supply crate and took aim.

At nothing.

She blinked, her heart still thundering in her ears.

"Area clear," Garrus spoke through her helmet. He'd taken up position on a nearby roof, picking off targets from a distance and calling out enemy positions.

"Perimeter secure," Taylor confirmed after another second of ringing silence.

Shepard closed her eyes briefly, gulping air through a raw throat. _Breathe. Just breathe._

She tried hard to gather her focus, clear her mind. She should have known exactly how many enemies were left on the battlefield, where each of her marines were located, what each of them were doing. Should have orchestrated their movements for maximum efficiency. Instead she had been barreling through enemy lines alone, seeing only the adversary in front of her. Picking them off one by one, up close and personal.

Satisfying. But sloppy.

Elizabeth ground her teeth, shoving herself to her feet. Things had been so much simpler, so much easier, before Alenko. She _had_ to find him… had to get this over with, one way or another.

For the sake of her sanity.

She waved ahead toward the silent guns looming in the distance. "Taylor, take point. Garrus, cover our six. Let's move, people. We're almost there."

* * *

As soon as the mechanic called Delan mentioned the name Commander Alenko, Shepard's wandering attention snapped into high alert. Her fingers tightened around her shotgun, but she managed to keep her tone controlled. "Commander Alenko, you say?"

Delan crossed his arms and nodded curtly. "That's right. Uptight son-of-a-bitch, that one. Had his marines patrolling all hours of the day, guarding those guns like he thought someone was gonna carry them off or something. Felt like I was living in a goddamned penal colony."

Shepard gripped her gun even harder; saw Garrus shift on his feet from the corner of her eye. She cleared her throat, her tone still carefully controlled. "Where did you last see the commander?"

Delan shrugged, rolling his eyes. "I don't know, somewhere over by the defense towers. They were always working on the guns. You know they brought those damn things all the way out here and they never even got them up and running. Something to do with the targeting calibration being all messed up." The man snorted. "Cheap pieces of Alliance crap. Any mechanic worth half his weight could have gotten those guns operational in a day, I bet."

"I'll take that bet," Shepard said.

Delan blinked at her. "Huh?"

"We need those guns. You're familiar with them and the layout of the colony. You're coming with us."

The man startled as if she had touched him with an electrical current, his eyes bugging wide. "Like hell I am!"

Her hand shot out and caught a fistful of his shirt, yanking him close. She glared into his terrified face, letting the muzzle of her shotgun shove into his ribs. "I'm sorry; did you think I was giving you a choice?" She jerked her head toward the door of the garage. "Those marines out there risked their lives to save you," she growled between her teeth. "Some of them _gave_ their lives to protect you and Sten and Lilith and anyone else you care about here. Those guns out there, those cheap pieces of Alliance crap, are the only reason you even have a _chance_ at fighting off the Collectors now – the only reason there's even a _chance_ of getting anyone back. Do you understand? So why don't you grow some balls and come help us make sure those marines didn't die for nothing? Why don't you show us how much you care about your friends by helping us save them?"

Delan stared at her for a long moment, his breathing harsh and ragged. He swallowed hard, giving the tiniest of nods. "Uh… yeah, sure… when you put it that way…"

She released him and he staggered away from her, straightening his shirt and then rubbing the spot where her shotgun had jabbed into his side. He glanced at each of her squad members in turn, his face paling. Somehow she restrained the smirk that pulled at her mouth. Maybe participating in active battle would teach the coward a thing or two about respect.

"You know how to shoot, Delan?"

The man took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. "Er… just a little, not very well…"

She tossed him her pistol and he nearly dropped it.

"Then don't shoot unless you have to," she said. "I don't want you accidentally shooting any good guys. You want to stay alive and see any of your friends again, you do exactly what I say, exactly when I say, understand?"

"Yes ma'am."

He sounded sufficiently cowed, so she moved for the exit. "Stay close to me. You'll be just fine."

* * *

But Delan the mechanic was certainly _not_ fine. He panicked as soon as a Collector fired in his general direction, crouching behind a retaining wall and dropping his borrowed pistol, covering his ears with his hands and whimpering something about crazy commando bitches with shotguns and how he didn't want to die.

He paid no attention to Shepard's barked orders and she began to question her decision to bring him along as she went to his location and physically removed him from his cover, dragging him behind her with one hand while shooting her shotgun with the other.

Shotguns were not good one-handed weapons.

She swore as husks came from everywhere. More Collectors dropped in from the sky. The thing she had taken to calling Harbinger - and which she could only assume was actually the Collectors' leader – somehow possessed host after host, addressing her by name and growling nasty threats. A new kind of enemy appeared on the scene - a bigger sort of husk, hunchbacked and grotesque, with humanoid skulls stuck in unnatural places along its body, their sightless blue eyes staring and mouths open as if in silent horror.

Delan actually wet himself.

Shepard rolled her eyes, shoving the man toward the base of the nearest GARDIAN gun and using both hands to work her own weapon until it hissed, the thermal clip ejecting. She flung out a biotic shockwave, throwing back the husks and hunchbacked monster long enough to load another clip.

"Now's your chance, Delan," she shouted back at him. "Prove how good you are and get that damn thing working!"

He shook his head vigorously, cringing back against the anti-ship device as she began firing into the sea of enemies once again. "I… I can't… I've never…"

"Focus on your friends, Delan," she said, biotically lifting two Collectors that had cornered Jacob and then smashing them back into the ground. "Think about Lilith. You want to see them again? You want to save them? Then _fix that gun_!"

He swallowed hard, found some shred of courage, and nodded. "Okay. Okay… yes, I can do it…"

"Now would be a good time," she snapped, then ducked behind a crate of tools and threw up a barrier, shielding both of them from incoming fire. The effort took immense concentration; already the now-familiar white-hot fire crawled through her nervous system, her body's first attempt to warn her that she was overdoing it. The almost imperceptible prick of her hardsuit's IV system tickled her right wrist, the warning icon in her HUD flashing.

Blood sugar low. IV system attempting to compensate. Recommend cessation of biotic usage or intake of properly balanced energy ration immediately.

She grunted. Someone needed to change the manual. No one could really afford to do either in the heat of battle.

"Shit," Delan spit from somewhere behind her. "I can't fix it… it's not a mechanical problem, it's some kind of software glitch."

"Thought you were good," she retorted breathlessly, unable to help herself. "Thought you would have bet a good mechanic could have fixed it?"

"Yeah, well, I was wrong, okay?" Panic edged into his voice again. "What the hell are we going to do now?"

_EDI._ "Think you can get the comms working at least?" she asked, loading yet another thermal clip as the Collector possessed by Harbinger stalked toward her, its body wreathed in a strange orange light.

"I don't know… they're using some kind of jamming technology, but maybe if I boost the signal enough – I just need to get to the main transmitter."

Garrus sent a sniper round through Harbinger's head and the orange glow abruptly disappeared, the Collector's lifeless body dropping heavily to the dirt. _Way to go, Vakarian._

"Okay, Delan, now's our chance. To the transmitter. Stay close." She grabbed a hold of his shirt again just in case, then took off in a crouching run toward the spaceport's communications building, enemy fire fizzling sporadically against her barrier.

* * *

Through a great amount of time and effort, Kaidan managed to neutralize the stasis field around his right arm well enough that he could reach down and grab his combat knife. He had concluded that trying to biotically destroy the tiny generator would have been too dangerous, especially considering it had been lodged in his neck. He was good with his biotics, better than most, but crushing something so tiny, without knowing its precise location, and without also crushing his own windpipe, was beyond even his skill-set. He'd have to resort to physically cutting it out.

He touched the still-stinging spot the bug had left with one gloved finger, gently probing, until he felt the barely perceptible bump, no bigger than a few millimeters across.

He ground his teeth, panting with the exertion of keeping even just a portion of the stasis field neutralized for such a prolonged period of time. He very carefully applied the knife point to his skin, and with one, quick motion, felt the miniscule bead come free on a thin trail of blood. He kept hold of his knife between three fingers and his palm, pinched his thumb and forefinger around the device, then flicked it as far away from him as he could.

The press of gravity around his body immediately released, and Commander Alenko collapsed rather ungracefully to the ground. He drug himself into a sitting position, pulling his rifle close, feeling utterly spent. He hung his head, taking a moment to regroup. Warmth ran from his nose and splattered onto his weapon. Blood.

He swore, wiping it away. For once he was glad he wasn't wearing his helmet. He was sure his hardsuit's IV system had activated some time ago, and he had grown tired of seeing that obnoxious flashing icon in his HUD.

Blood sugar low. IV system attempting to compensate. Recommend cessation of biotic usage or intake of properly balanced energy ration immediately.

He grunted. Someone needed to change the manual. No one could really afford to do either in the heat of battle.

He looked around, suddenly realizing the sound of weapons fire had moved much closer to him. He had vaguely registered the roar of an approaching shuttle during his arduous attempt to free himself, but had been unable to look and see who could possibly be insane enough to be landing. The idea of an incoming shuttle had not particularly encouraged him; one lone shuttle could not possibly hold enough civilians to fight off the aliens, and no other marines outside of his own were due in this sector for a very long time.

If anything, whoever had landed in that shuttle was only giving the strange, four-eyed aliens more victims. Though on the plus side, the aircraft's arrival had distracted the enemy long enough to allow him time to work his escape.

And then weapons fire had echoed back to him, rebounding off the surrounding buildings. From the sound of it, the shuttle's occupants were actually putting up one hell of a fight. There had been almost constant battle, broken only by short periods of eerie silence. For the first time since seeing how effectively the aliens had immobilized resistance, Kaidan had hope that maybe the colony could be saved after all.

Alone, he'd had little chance of being able to stop the abductions. But maybe that shuttle had brought him just the reinforcements he needed. Perhaps, by some miracle, even an N7 unit.

Kaidan opened one of his belt pouches and pulled out three two-ounce flasks; shots of highly concentrated energy drink. He threw back all three, then pushed himself to his feet. There, that should take care of things for a while.

He resettled his rifle in his arms and took off at a jog toward the area of most intense fighting.


	13. Echoes

**Echoes**

* * *

Kaidan slunk along the back of the spaceport's communications building, the chatter and boom of countless weapons loud enough now to make him wish he had his helmet again. He edged up to the building's corner, then peeked around it to take stock of the combat zone.

The unfamiliar four-eyed aliens were everywhere. He saw husks as well, and two other bizarre forms of semi-life he'd never seen before. One type was hunchbacked and multi-faced, the other resembled a giant floating cross between an insect and a crab. Against these seemingly overwhelming forces, five armed and armored figures somehow managed to hold their own.

They had strategically placed their backs against walls, positioned in a semi-circle so that enemies were often caught in cross-fire, but also spaced so that any stray rounds wouldn't hit their own squad-mates. Two human females and one human male, all three biotic. A turian sniper on the roof to the right. A krogan bellowing battle cries and occasionally leaving his cover to bash an enemy in the face with his skull-crest.

Certainly not an N7 unit. Mercenaries, maybe. Landing in the hopes of an easy mark, but finding trouble instead. Kaidan settled into a crouch, not certain he wanted to interfere just yet. If this group turned out to be hostile mercs, his chances against all five of them weren't much better than his chances against a ship full of hostile aliens. Maybe they would all just kill each other and make his job that much easier.

Then he saw another human figure, a male, hunkered down next to one of the women. He was not participating in the fight, and his clothes marked him as a colonist. Kaidan frowned. He swore the man looked like Delan, the troublesome mechanic who had spared no insult when voicing his displeasure about Alliance presence on Horizon. But how had he managed to avoid being paralyzed like the others? And why in the hell was he with _these _people?

A resonating boom sounded from off to his left and Kaidan instinctively ducked, nearly losing his balance. A fireball erupted from the side of the alien ship, and Kaidan flinched as another boom sounded from his right. This time he saw the source of the noise – the GARDIAN guns. They worked. They actually _worked_.

All three guns began pummeling the ship, firing in succession, just like they were supposed to.

_How in the hell…_

"EDI!" one of the women shouted between blasts of her shotgun. "I said target only the _engines_! There could be colonists on that ship!"

The voice kicked the breath out of him.

_No. _

"_Our agents keep finding their ships and their people snooping around after colonists go missing, and that's got to be more than coincidence."_

_No._

"_Subject visually resembled Commander Elizabeth Shepard and appeared in the company of confirmed Cerberus operatives…"_

_No. _

A heavy whine issued from the ship and the panels along its base began to shift. A tell-tale glow lit from beneath, and Kaidan realized dazedly it was going to lift off.

"NO, damnit!" she roared, and then she was sprinting full-out toward the massive vessel, oblivious to the enemy rounds that followed her. The rest of her squad immediately switched to providing cover fire, but in so doing, opened themselves to attack.

_Not her. Can't be._

The engine was going to light at any second, the blast evaporating anything that happened to be too close. And she was swiftly drawing too close. Didn't she realize the danger? What the hell was she doing, anyway? What could she possibly hope to accomplish by charging a hostile alien mothership?

_She's trying to save them…._

She had never been one to acknowledge the odds. She had never been one to consider her own safety when the survival of innocents had been at stake.

_Shepard._

He moved without thought, springing from his cover and tearing across the battlefield just as recklessly as she, ignoring the surprised shouts of her squad as he shot past them. She had just reached the edge of the blast radius; faster than he remembered her being – he had always beaten her at sprints, though she'd been the better long distance runner – and the glow beneath the ship brightened, flickering.

No more time.

He dropped his rifle, sliding to a stop and throwing out his hands in a mnemonic that caught her in a field of dark energy, jerking her to a halt. He yanked her backwards just as the engine fired. Scorching air blew over him on a wave of dust and Kaidan ducked away, shielding his head with his arms just as his biotic field dissipated, dropping Shepard right on top of him. They both hit the ground in a tangle of limbs.

She separated herself from him rather violently and climbed to her feet before he'd even finished coughing the dust from his lungs. He pushed onto his knees and squinted up at her through the haze, only to look into the barrel of her pistol.

He froze.

She froze.

"_Kaidan_?"

The way she said it…. Emotion exploded in his chest, threatening to overwhelm him. It was her, it _had_ to be her…

She yanked off her helmet, throwing it aside. She looked just how he so often remembered her: hair wet and plastered to her forehead and neck, face shining with sweat, armor scuffed and splattered with gore, everything covered in a fine layer of grime that only hard-fought battles could generate.

Just as he'd seen her so many times before.

Just like she'd never died at all.

Maybe she hadn't. _"Alenko, do you think it's possible that Shepard faked her own death?"_

_No. No no no no no._

She lowered her pistol, her eyes going up to follow the ascent of the alien ship, then dropping back to him. "I thought… I thought you were…"

_She was trying to save _me_._

He swallowed hard in a dry, dusty throat, then slowly got to his feet. The sounds of ensuing battle echoed behind them; Shepard's new squad still cleaning up the rest of the hostiles. But neither of them moved to join the dwindling fight. They just stood there, staring at each other.

Shepard stepped forward suddenly and Kaidan almost drew back, but then her arms were around him, her face pressed into his neck. He responded instinctively, holding her as tightly as he ever had. He felt her chest heaving against his, her breath hot against his skin. He inhaled her smell; sweat and dirt and that scent that had always been just hers. Her fingers buried into the hair above his amp and that tiny, habitual gesture almost destroyed the tattered remains of his self-control.

He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to wake up. How many times had he had this dream before, only to wake up in a tangle of sheets, alone in the dark?

He tightened his embrace, but she did not disappear.

She was real. She was alive. She was _here_. And damn, he had _missed_ her…

Standing there with his arms around her, it was almost as if she had never died. For a second he forgot about the months of agony he'd somehow managed to crawl through, the countless nights spent fighting ghosts of her memory, the piles of grief, regrets, and guilt he'd only recently wrestled under control.

For a second. But then it all came rushing back on a sudden, hot wave of anger. Had she really put him through all of that for nothing? Only to finally show up here and just expect to pick up where they'd left off? Did she think her attempt to save him would blind him to the fact that she'd just vanished for two years?

He let go of her, pushing away.

Shepard stepped back, regaining her composure. But her eyes held his gaze, bright and piercing, and the raw fear he saw in their depths unsettled him. He'd never seen her afraid of anything.

"Shepard, I…" He stopped, exhaling sharply. He'd spent so many nights wishing with every fiber of his being that he could have her back. And now she was here… and it was all wrong. All so very wrong…

"Shepard, I thought you were dead." The anger rushed through him like a flood through a broken levy now, resisting his best efforts to suppress it; made worse by the fact her turian sniper had climbed down from the roof, and even through the wafting dust the blue face paint and greenish skin were all too familiar. The recognition stabbed like a hot knife to his heart.

So she had contacted Garrus, then, and not him. Or maybe the turian had been included in her bizarre and twisted plan from the beginning? Kaidan remembered in a flash how both Garrus and Liara had tried to contact him mere months after Shepard's supposed death, and icy suspicion gripped him. Had they known then? Is that what they'd been trying to tell him? Had all this time of misery simply been due to the fact he'd refused to take their calls? But no… that couldn't have been it, or surely they would have tried harder to reach him. Surely…

"I thought… I thought we _all _thought you were dead," he spat, glaring briefly at Garrus, who was pointedly making an effort to keep everyone else away from them, before looking back to her, "but I see that isn't the case. Two years, Shepard. _Two years_ without a fucking _word_, and now you show up here and act like nothing ever happened?" He shook his head once, emotion closing his throat again as he remembered all the time they'd spent together after the defeat of Sovereign. So much time trying to be normal, trying to carve out a life for themselves after becoming galactic heroes. "I thought we had something, Shepard," he said gruffly. "Something _real_. I loved you. I loved you… _so much_." The words poured out of him, his voice growing louder and harsher as the full magnitude of what she'd done to him finally started to sink in. "Thinking you were dead tore me apart… how could you do that to me? Why didn't you try to contact me? How could you tell Garrus and not me? Why didn't you let me know you were alive?"

Shepard swallowed, tears glimmering in her eyes as she shook her head. Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. "Kaidan, I –" Her voice hitched and she stopped, drew a deep breath. "I tried," she whispered finally. "I was _dead_, Kaidan. It took a long time to bring me back… I've only been conscious for the last three and half months. I've been looking for you ever since, but your assignments and locations were classified. I couldn't find you."

He blinked.

She took advantage of his silence and continued. "Joker finally found a lead –"

"Joker?" He took a step back. "Are you serious? What, you have the whole crew except me rounded up now, do you?"

Her brow furrowed. "No… I found Garrus on Omega under the name Archangel. I didn't even know it was him until I actually saw him. Joker left the Alliance because they wouldn't let him fly, and we both know he's the best of the best when it comes to pilots. I need the best of the best right now, Kaidan."

His eyes went back to the team busily scanning over the now-silent combat zone. They had triumphed over statistically long odds in this fight. They had succeeded in getting the GARDIAN guns working. They had driven off the alien attackers before they'd managed to abduct the entire colony. He had to admit they all seemed to be very competent fighters.

"Those aliens were the Collectors," she said, and his eyes snapped down to her again. "They're real, and from the husks we've seen here, probably working with the Reapers to target human colonies. I need to find out why. I need to stop them. And to do that, I need good people. I need… I need _you_, Kaidan."

The words sent goosebumps crawling across his skin, and words utterly failed him. She looked him straight in the eye, her face deadly serious. He stared back at her, disbelief coursing over him in cold, numbing waves. Had she completely lost her mind? Did she really think he would just walk away from his job, his duty, his responsibility? Did she really think he'd just up and leave Horizon, the Alliance, the First Biotic Company, without verifying her story or knowing exactly what the hell was going on, just because she asked?

A fierce and almost tangible hope radiated from her, burning against his senses, and a flicker of desperation passed across her unblinking gaze. Part of her thought he might walk away to follow her, yes. But another part knew he wouldn't.

And he wasn't sure which he hated more: the fact he'd actually considered her offer for all of thirty seconds, or the fact he no longer trusted her enough to consider it for a good deal longer.

How were they even having this conversation? Out of all the strange things she'd just told him, one claim alone still stood out above all the others. The one thing he just couldn't get past. "Shepard," he said lowly, carefully, "people don't just come back from the dead."

She blew out a breath, dropping her eyes. "I know it sounds crazy. Sometimes I don't believe it myself. But it's true." She looked him in the face again. "Give me a chance, Kaidan. I'll prove it to you, I promise."

He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "Prove it by coming back to the Alliance."

Her shoulders slumped. Her hand came up to rub her dirt-streaked forehead and he realized all at once how exhausted she looked. A twinge of the old desire to comfort her plucked at him, but he pushed it back down beneath the anger and doubt.

"Do you think I don't want to do that?" she asked wearily. "Believe me, I would if I could. But the Alliance still has too many questions… they'd arrest me on sight. And I can't afford to be under investigation right now. There's still too much to do…"

_Too much to do._ Even after Saren and Sovereign had been destroyed she had been damned hard to convince to take a break. He'd gotten two shore leaves out of her, both far too short. And the one they'd taken to visit his parents could hardly be counted.

"Just tell me how, Shepard," he said, refusing the memories before they could crumble his resolve. "How could you have died and been brought back? And where? Where in the hell have you been all this time? How could all of this have happened without the Alliance knowing anything about it until now?"

Shepard pursed her lips.

"You'd be surprised what enough money and time can accomplish, Commander."

The smooth female tones surprised both of them. Shepard turned to look over her shoulder and Kaidan followed her gaze to see the other woman on her team swiftly approaching. Garrus was watching after her, his mandibles flaring, one hand physically restraining Delan the mechanic, who was swearing virulently. The human male and krogan stood back, watching warily from a distance.

Kaidan brought his attention back to the approaching woman, noticing the way Shepard moved away as her squad-mate drew up beside her.

The woman had taken off her helmet and carried it tucked neatly under one arm, her jet-black hair pulled up into a regulation bun. Her cool, icy-blue eyes looked him up and down as she held out a hand. "Operative Miranda Lawson," she announced. "I understand you and Commander Shepard have quite the history. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Commander Alenko."

He did not immediately extend his hand to her, instead looking her over with a critical eye. While Shepard wore the standard N7 armor equipped with several upgrades – and Kaidan wondered where in the hell she had managed to get her hands on N7-issue armor; that would be another thing Anderson would have to investigate – Operative Lawson had no indication of rank on her hardsuit. But the title "Operative" likely suggested some type of intelligence work.

For a moment he dared to hope everything would fit nice and tidy into a highly classified, deep-cover file. He wouldn't even ask for details, were that the case. Knowing Shepard had faked her death – or been resurrected - as part of an Alliance project would be good enough. And if she was still a Spectre, she could probably get him security clearance to join her team, just like she wanted. He could probably actually walk away from his current responsibilities, at least temporarily, with no trouble at all.

And without a guilty conscience.

But then he recognized the tiny logo half-covered by dirt and gore on the woman's chest-plate, and the word hissed from his mouth on a gasp of horror. "_Cerberus_?"

Lawson gave a nod, dropping her arm back to her side. "That's correct, Commander. I was the Project Lead of the Lazarus Cell, the people responsible for bringing Shepard back to life."

He choked. Maybe he could have believed the woman in front of him was the Shepard he had once known, and that she had somehow been brought back from the dead. He could have even believed that an organization like Cerberus had created their own cloned Shepard in an attempt to make themselves appear to be endorsed by the Savior of the Citadel. But he would not - _could not_ - believe that the Elizabeth Shepard he had known would ever, under any circumstances, willingly work with Cerberus. Not after everything they'd seen Cerberus do…

Not after Akuze. Not after the rachni experiments. Not after Chasca…

He remembered the report he'd read back on the Citadel in Anderson's office and felt sick. He turned away from them, a derisive noise escaping his throat. "We'd gotten reports about you and Cerberus," he murmured. "Alliance Intel thought Cerberus might be behind the missing human colonies. Our analysts predicted this colony might be the next one to be hit. Anderson sent me to investigate, to try and find out who was really responsible." He faced Shepard again, straightening his shoulders and fixing her with a hard stare. "He wanted me to see if you'd show up. With Cerberus. And if you did, to find out if it was really you, or just some cloned knock-off."

He saw the impact of his words on her face, but couldn't make himself stop. "I never thought you'd be capable of this, Shepard," he whispered. "I never thought… I never thought it'd actually be _you_. At least… not with Cerberus."

"Cerberus and I want the same thing right now," she said in a low, dangerous voice. "To save our colonies. That doesn't mean I answer to them."

He laughed a bitter, humorless sound. "You really believe that? Or is that what Cerberus wants you to think? Come on, Shepard… after everything we've seen them do? You know what they're capable of better than most." He shook his head, suddenly feeling so very, very tired. His armor weighed heavily on his shoulders and it was all he could do to stay standing. "I wanted to believe the rumors that you were alive," he admitted, holding her gaze, "but I _never_ expected anything like this. You turned your back on everything we believed in. You betrayed the Alliance… you betrayed _me_."

He saw the catch in her breathing, the way her body very slightly rocked back on her heels, the way she tensed. "Kaidan, you know me," she insisted quietly, and when he started to shake his head and walk away she moved forward, catching his arm and pulling him back. "You know I would only do this for the right reasons."

"No," he said gruffly, his heart shattering all over again as he pulled his arm from her grip. "I _used_ to know you. The Elizabeth I remember would have known there was never a right reason to work with Cerberus. She would have known the end doesn't justify the means."

Her jaw clenched, her expression hardening. They were close enough that he could feel the tingle of her dormant biotics, the brush of her quickened breathing against his cheek. Still so achingly familiar, even after so much time, even in this foreign situation, and it just made him all the more aware of everything he'd lost.

Of the false hope she'd offered and then yanked away again.

Of how close he'd come to moving on with his life.

Of how much he didn't need any more reminders.

"I don't know what's going on with you, Shepard," he said softly, his voice strangled by the tightness in his chest. "I don't know if you feel you owe Cerberus because they saved you or if… if I just never really knew the real you, but you should consider the fact that Cerberus could be using the Collector attacks and threat of a Reaper to manipulate you. They could even be behind the attacks themselves. They know you'll do anything if it means saving innocent lives. Don't let them use that against you." He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, his thumb gently brushing the filth from the freckles there, and swallowed hard. "Just… please be careful."

He dropped his hand abruptly, before the touch could burn away what little remained of his control, and moved away from her. Far enough away that he couldn't feel her biotics or her breath. It was like stepping into a void, cold and empty, and echoes of the crushing despair he'd felt on Alchera pushed against the raw edges of his nerves.

"I have to go make a report back to Anderson," he said, his voice still rough. "I'll give you an hour to get off-planet, otherwise I'm going to start making arrests."

He lifted his eyes to look over Shepard's shoulder at Operative Lawson, who crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow at him. "I'd like to see you try," she drawled.

"Understood, Commander," Shepard said coolly, ignoring the other woman. To his surprise, she held out a hand, stiff and formal. "Good-bye, Alenko."

The sudden use of his last name nearly made him cringe, but he masked his discomfort and accepted her handshake. How could this be harder than leaving her to die? "Good-bye, Shepard."

Her grip was painfully strong. All emotion was gone from her face now, leaving behind a hard mask of professionalism. She had closed herself off again, the way he'd seen her do so many times in the fight against Saren. Compartmentalization. Put feelings away to be dealt with later. Except sometimes she didn't deal with them. Sometimes she left them filed away for years and years until they began to rot and fester and seep into her very core…

He'd worked so hard to get her to stop doing that.

Could a relationship that had taken so long to build really be destroyed in mere minutes?

_Not minutes, goddamnit. _Years._ Two fucking years…._

She released his hand, turned on her heel, and gestured to Operative Lawson. "Get Dr. Solus down here," she ordered. "And tell him to work fast."


	14. Undertow

**Undertow**

* * *

The times Joker had to wait on the edge of his seat, ready to whisk the _Normandy_ out of harm's way at a second's notice, or to swoop down and rescue Shepard and the others from the very clutches of death itself, were the worst. He couldn't occupy himself with drinks or food or dirty vids or extranet news during those times. He just had to wait, and be ready.

And this time, with that damn ship – still unidentifiable by Alliance records but completely recognizable to him and everyone else who'd been on the _SR1_ that day – just _sitting_ down there gathering up paralyzed colonists, and Alenko supposedly down there too – possibly already paralyzed and aboard that damn ship – and Shepard tossed into the mix of it and taking _Lawson_ with her, of all people….

Good God, he felt like he might actually have a heart attack.

They knew now it had been the Collectors that had sliced through the original _Normandy_ like warm butter that day, but that still didn't explain why they had attacked so suddenly and seemingly at random. After all, the Collectors hadn't gone after any other Alliance ship at any other time. Except the _Normandy_. On that one day.

Were they really just trying to kill Shepard? That might explain why they had suddenly appeared in such numbers again so shortly after she'd been resurrected. Were the attacks on these colonies just supposed to be bait to draw her out so they could try to kill her again? If the Reapers really _were_ working through the Collectors as had been speculated in the last mission briefing, that seemed possible. Shepard _had_ managed to rally a fleet that had taken down one of them… maybe that had just really pissed them off.

Maybe they figured if they could get rid of her, the galaxy would go down without much of a fight.

That was probably more true than he would have liked to admit.

"Mr. Moreau, it is inadvisable to lessen your nail plate's free edge to such an extent," EDI stated suddenly, startling him. "It can cause infection."

He glared at the blue ball, spitting the remains of his mangled nail in her direction. "What are you, my mother now?"

"That is impossible, considering that –"

"Wow, okay EDI, someday we need to have a chat about common human expressions."

"That would be satisfactory," she replied. "Such information would statistically increase my chances of becoming more fully accepted by the crew."

"Not sure that's really going to do it," he muttered. "I think you still have a long way to go with some people before that happens."

There was the briefest of pauses. "That is unfortunate."

Joker took his eyes off the displays in front of him again to look at her, but the blue ball was always the same. Faceless, blue, round. Staring blankly at him, emotionless. Still, he could have sworn he heard regret in her tone.

He was about to ask her if she really had feelings when a flashing red box on his planet-side readouts caught his attention. He snapped back around to the front, his fingers already flying over the controls. "Shit, EDI, get ready, that ship is taking off."

"Stealth systems are engaged, Mr. Moreau," she said. "And we are on the far side of the planet."

"That thing saw right past our stealth systems last time," he shot back, "I'm not taking any chances."

"The ship's trajectory suggests it is heading straight for the relay."

Joker kept his hands over the controls just in case, watching the _SR2_'s sensors track the alien ship and map the route on his displays. EDI was right, it headed straight for the relay. Those anti-ship guns must have done a damn fine job of scaring it away. He keyed the comm to Shepard's hardsuit. "Shepard, you there? What's going on?"

No answer.

His heart shoved into his throat. "Shepard, do you read?"

More silence. He flipped the comm over to the party channel just as EDI spoke up.

"Shepard's hardsuit transponder is still located on the planet's surface, Mr. Moreau. As are Vakarian's, Taylor's, Lawson's, and Grunt's. Their vitals are elevated but stable."

He felt only mildly relieved. "Garrus, do you copy? That ship is high-tailing it out of here… What's going on down there?"

"Not a good time, Joker," the turian's gravelly voice came back, and the clatter of assault rifles echoed in the background. "Cleaning up the rest of the ground forces. Everyone's alive. Shepard found Alenko. Well, Alenko found Shepard, more like."

Joker straightened in his chair. "Oh."

"Standby." And then Garrus clicked off.

Joker huffed a sigh, drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair. For once he kind of wished he was down there, if only so he could see how the Shepard and Alenko reunion would go. He imagined it'd be something worthy of a soap-opera script.

Shit, he really hated waiting…

"Commander Alenko is not on the list of potential recruits for this mission," EDI said into the silence. "I am curious as to why Commander Shepard feels it necessary to approach him for enlistment. Given his history within the Alliance, current rank and assignment, and psychological profile, it is unlikely he will accept her offer."

"Uh… yeah." He still found it creepy how much EDI seemed to know about everyone, including himself. He especially did not like it when she suggested certain vids he should watch "based on his previous selections." What the hell was she doing paying attention to his previous selections anyway? That was really her second job, he'd come to find out. Or maybe her primary function, in truth: spying on everyone for Lawson and the Illusive Man. Joker had never really wanted to disembark his ship before, always being content to stay aboard even during times everyone else left to enjoy a little shore leave. But lately he'd been feeling a little like a bug under a microscope. Next time they went to the Citadel, he might actually want off.

"It's complicated," he said, not really wanting to get into details with the Cerberus AI. She already knew too much.

He watched the Collector ship jump through the relay. Still he waited. Still silence from the ground. Until he couldn't stand it anymore and keyed Vakarian again. "Garrus, seriously. I'm dying up here, what's going on?"

"Tell Dr. Solus to shuttle down," was the short reply, and this time Joker could hear an unfamiliar male voice swearing and ranting something about letting the ship get away. He frowned. "Okay. What about Alenko and –"

"Not now, Joker." And then he was gone again.

Joker clenched his fists and rolled his eyes. Damn turians. Always so damn efficient. Never any time for gossip. He moved to activate the PA in the research lab, but EDI stopped him.

"I will tell the professor he is needed planet-side," she offered.

"Fine." He waved a hand dismissively. Her avatar winked out, he presumed to reappear over the holo-hub in the research lab. Not that she couldn't have had an avatar present at every holo-hub at the same time throughout the entire ship, but she'd explained that she found the crew seemed to respond better to her presence when she pretended not to be ubiquitous. Naturally.

He sighed again, rubbing his hands over his face. Waiting would be the death of him, he was sure of it.

* * *

Shepard came back to the _Normandy_ first, alone. According to EDI, who accessed various video feeds and tracked elevator movement at Joker's request, the commander went straight to her quarters. And as painful as her silence was, he just couldn't bring himself to try paging her. The fight on Horizon had been long and hard, and he knew better than to bother her with non-urgent matters so soon after a battle.

The others didn't return until a very long forty-seven minutes later, bringing an excited and as-always talkative Dr. Solus back with them, their arms full of strange-looking guns and several clear vials of who-knew-what. Joker watched the bay's video feed EDI had so kindly temporarily forwarded to his datapad, but Kaidan never got off the shuttle.

Alenko hadn't come back with them.

Had the man actually said _no_? To Shepard? Really?

Joker couldn't quite comprehend it. He dropped the datapad into his lap, leaning back in his chair and feeling remarkably disappointed. How completely and utterly anti-climactic. How could EDI's estimation of this have been right? Sure, she'd had plenty of surface information to draw a conclusion from, but there were so many factors she couldn't have known…

Factors no one could have known unless they'd served with both Shepard and Alenko during those four months of hell chasing Saren.

Maybe those factors just didn't exist anymore for Kaidan.

Joker shook his head, still finding that hard to accept. Surely not. Not after that fucking _look_ that day at the lieutenant's apartment…

He shut down the datapad. Well, he'd wait just a little longer, wait for everyone to get settled back in after whatever the hell had happened, wait to get his new course laid in, and then he'd go searching for answers. Because he was going to get answers, damnit. It was bad enough he had to wait in agony throughout every ground-battle. He wasn't going to be left in the dark, too.

* * *

Three hours later, while en route to Ilium, Shepard called a mission debrief. She had taken to including everyone on the briefs and debriefs; those who could not actively attend or watch via live video feed received a written transcript at their terminal not more than a half hour after the meeting's conclusion, courtesy of Operative Lawson herself. Joker wasn't entirely sure why Shepard had taken to doing this, it wasn't always completely necessary for Mess Sergeant Gardner to know the details of every skirmish, after all, but he thought it probably had something to do with Shepard trying to keep them all together and on the same page.

Maybe something to do with the fact she didn't quite trust all of them yet. Something to do with the saying "keep your friends close and your enemies closer", perhaps.

Regardless of her reasons, he had taken to greatly appreciate being included. It helped him know what to expect. Helped him plan when he could afford to make trips down to the Port Observatory and when he'd better as hell stay sober. Helped him get to know the rest of the crew, too – while Shepard talked, he watched them. Joker was good at reading people. He had been surprised at the beginning of this mission to see so much raw admiration and respect and downright awe on so many of their faces… not exactly what he'd been expecting from a Cerberus crew.

But so many of these people were former Alliance; just Cerberus in name now, really. They'd answered the Illusive Man's call simply so they could take an active role in stopping the colony attacks – simply so they might have the opportunity to serve with Shepard.

The looks on their faces hadn't changed much in three and half months. They still watched her with rapt attention, drinking in every word, some even taking notes on their omni-tools. Except for Lawson, of course. The woman always stood in the back corner, attentive but somehow also looking like a teacher grading her student's oral presentation. Jacob Taylor lacked the awe-struck appearance of some of the other crew, but his respect for Shepard leaked through every pore of his being when he was around her. And Garrus, well. Garrus was Garrus. He'd taken quite well to becoming Shepard's XO. It had been some adjustment to get used to a turian giving orders… Vakarian still tended to fall back upon his militaristic culture in almost every instance in which Shepard didn't give him direct instructions, but Joker had to admit the crew was even more efficient now than they had been before.

At the moment, Chakwas looked thoroughly rattled by some of the specs Dr. Solus currently displayed on the holo projector. Something to do with the new kind of husks they'd seen planet-side and the portable stasis field generators the swarms of bugs implanted into you when they stung you.

Joker shuddered. Fuck that. He'd stay aboard and chew his nails off waiting any day…

His eyes drifted to the psychotic criminal known as Jack, who paced a tight line along the side wall. The woman was always pissed, always glowing blue with barely restrained biotics, and Joker made a point to steer very, very far away from her on a regular basis. The briefs and debriefs were the closest he ever got to her, and even then he usually watched via video. If he hadn't of been so damn curious for any mention of Alenko, he wouldn't have shown up in person this time, either.

How Shepard had managed to get the crazy bitch to listen to her, he still didn't know. He thought maybe it'd had something to do with the shearing gravitational forces that had nearly ripped a hole in the _SR-2_'s hull the day after Jack had come aboard – he knew for a fact Shepard had gone down to the engineering sub-deck that day to have a "chat" with the destructive psychopath – but he wasn't going to ask about it. There were some things he was just better off not knowing. For now it seemed Jack was on their side, and that's all that really mattered.

"The presence of husks on Horizon seems to imply Reaper involvement," Shepard was saying, and Joker turned his attention back to her. "Although there were no Dragon's Teeth within range of our sensors," she continued. "As you all know, the geth used the so-called Dragon's Teeth as a means of converting humans into husks. And the Dragon's Teeth technology has been confirmed to be of Reaper origin. Given that we have no evidence of Dragon's Teeth anywhere on the colony, we are assuming the husks and… other creatures… were actually brought with the Collectors. Unless there is some other husk conversion technology that we are thus far unaware of. But from what we saw first-hand, and from Dr. Solus' preliminary studies of husk remains, it appears they arrived with the Collectors. This would, of course, point to a direct interaction between the Collectors and the Reapers."

Silence followed this statement, broken only by the steady thrum of the drive core.

"We still don't know why the Collectors are attacking," she said, her hand lifting to absently run along the scars across her jaw. He'd caught her doing that often lately. A new nervous habit. "We're going to continue with our recruitment efforts while Dr. Solus continues his research on the husk and Collector remains. Hopefully that will tell us something more about them. We're still sure the Collectors come from beyond the Omega 4 relay, so that's still our end goal. We're going to find a way through, follow them right back to their little hidey hole, and then, we're going to obliterate them."

Murmurs of approval broken with a few enthusiastic "hell yeahs" answered her this time.

"Any questions?" she asked when the commotion had died down a little.

No one raised a hand.

"Dismissed."

Joker didn't move. He kept his seat and let the mass of bodies file past him, taking care not to look Jack in the eye as she stalked past him close enough that her biotics made his skin prickle. He rubbed his arms after she'd gone, trying to smooth the hairs back into place.

Lawson tossed him a curious glance as she left, her omni-tool lit, probably already sending out transcripts of the debrief, but he simply gave her a placating smile and to his relief, she left without bothering him.

Garrus spoke with Shepard quietly for a moment, and Joker took the chance to study her intensely, searching for any clue as to what might have really happened on Horizon. She still seemed tired… more tired, even. But not as tense, perhaps. Just exhausted. Not on the edge of tears. Not at the precipice of a mental breakdown. Not like she had just met up with her one-time lover who had thought she was dead for two years, but who she felt she'd just left a few months ago. But then… she _was_ Commander Fucking Shepard.

The most upset she ever got was at the injustices of the galaxy, innocents being put in danger or being taken advantage of, or sometimes in the very rare instances she'd gotten stonewalled by political bullshit or cut off from a resource, and couldn't complete a task or a mission as quickly as she'd wanted. He'd seen her angry, annoyed, frustrated… but always under control.

Even her rage was controlled.

Which just made it all the more terrifying, in his opinion.

He'd even seen her on the verge of hopelessness once, after the _Normandy_ had been grounded. That was the closest he'd ever really come to seeing her truly distraught, he realized suddenly, but even that had been such a brief, transitory glimpse, it was almost as if it had never even happened.

He'd heard in a round-about way, from a few of his casual chats with Alenko before Alchera, that Shepard was indeed human, and actually had normal human emotions beneath that Commander Fucking Shepard shell. Joker had guessed that, of course, given the few smiles he'd managed to pull out of her with some of his jokes, but as a general rule it had seemed Alenko was the only one actually exposed to her real, _real _self.

Joker had to admit he'd been a little jealous. Commander Fucking Shepard was pretty fucking amazing… he could only imagine what the real woman beneath all of that was like.

He shook himself from his thoughts as Garrus finished his conversation with Shepard and moved for the exit, giving Joker a nod as he passed.

Now he was the only one left. Shepard stood at the front of the room, her posture relaxing, her shoulders dropping. She sighed heavily, closing her eyes. She didn't look hopeless though. Or distraught. Just tired. He waited.

"Do you need something, Joker?" she asked into the quiet, not opening her eyes.

He leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on the table in front of him. "Do you?"

Her eyes opened and she frowned. "What?"

"I mean… well, with all due respect, Commander, you look like shit. If you're not careful you're going to have both Chambers _and_ Chakwas breathing down your neck, telling you to share your feelings and get some rest and drink some herbal tea or some crap."

Shepard lifted an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Is that your way of saying you're worried about me?"

He shifted in his chair, shaking his head. "Course not. You're Commander Fucking Shepard. But Chambers and Chakwas… they seem to think you're actually human."

She pursed her lips, an action he'd learned meant she was mildly amused, but unwilling to admit it. "I'm fine, Joker."

He waited for more, but she offered nothing. He tapped a finger against the tabletop. "Soooo, about finding Alenko –"

She snapped a glare at him and the words got stuck in Joker's throat. He coughed. "Bad idea?"

The anger left her face as abruptly as it had come, leaving only the impassive exhaustion once again. She sank down into the nearest chair, fixing her gaze on the far wall. She sighed again. "No. I… needed to know. Wanted him to know…" She shook her head. "Well, anyway. At least I know he's alive, and not taken by the Collectors. I think… I think he'll be stuck on Horizon for awhile, sorting out the aftermath of the attack. Hopefully we'll have kicked the Collectors' collective asses by the time he has another chance to put himself on a target colony again." She rolled her eyes.

Joker winced. "That sounds… tedious. To be honest, Commander, I thought for sure he'd come back with you."

Her eyes dropped to her lap, her expression darkening. Joker braced himself for another angry look, but instead she simply sat, still and quiet, for another long moment. So long, in fact, that he wondered if he shouldn't get up and excuse himself.

"Jeff," she said suddenly, very softly, and the use of his real name gave him shivers of foreboding. "Does the end justify the means?"

Her tone told him it was not a simple question to be answered lightly with a joke. Her tone told him there was a great deal of… _something_ lurking under there, just below the surface, like a large and languid river hiding a deadly undertow in its depths.

He cleared his throat. "Um, well... as a general rule of thumb, I'd say no. But I'm also a firm believer in the saying that there's an exception to everything."

"And this?" she asked, just as softly, looking around the room they sat in, splaying her palms upward as if to encompass the entire ship. "What is this? Is this the exception, or the rule?"

"I'm pretty sure this is the exception, Commander."

She eyed him doubtfully, so he began ticking off the list on his fingers. "We have a turian XO on a Cerberus vessel, a krogan bred in a tank, a completely psycho, biotically super-powered criminal, a veteran mercenary sporting more scars than Wrex, a mad salarian scientist – who sings, no less – a smokin-hot master thief, and let's not forget the favorite pet of the Illusive Man himself, Operative Lawson… all shoved together in this flying tin can. And yet somehow we're all still alive. I'd say that's definitely exceptional."

Shepard hissed a breath through her teeth, propping her elbows on the table and dropping her head into her hands. "It's just… I'm helping the man who orchestrated the thresher attacks on Akuze," she mumbled, her voice partially muffled behind the short curtain of dark hair. "I'm helping the organization that wiped out my entire unit. That murdered Admiral Kahoku. That… turned all those colonists into husks…"

Shit. He suddenly wished he hadn't decided to stay late. He took a deep breath and did something he didn't do often – considered his words carefully. "Shepard," he said finally, putting every bit of confidence he could muster into his voice, "you are not _helping_ him. You're _using_ him. There's a really big difference."

She picked up her head to look at him. "Is there?"

"Yes! Look… once this Collector problem is dealt with, and you stop the Reapers again – because you will, that's just what you do – are you going to stick around and run more errands for the Illusive Man?"

Her eyes narrowed. "No."

The one little word carried a tremendous amount of hate in it. Joker lifted his hands as if she had just proved his point. "See? If you were really helping him, you'd want to stick around and do more for his cause. But you're not. You're _using_ him and his information network and his ship and his people to do what you need to do and then discarding them. Like a tool when it's not needed anymore." He glanced around the room, realizing with sudden chagrin that it was very possible Lawson and therefore the Illusive Man might be hearing this conversation. But Shepard didn't seem to share his concern.

Ah hell, it was too late to take any of it back now, anyway. He cleared his throat. "That's what Cerberus is for you right now," he continued, much more quietly. "A tool."

Shepard contemplated his words. "I don't know… sometimes I feel like I'm taking the easy way out. Like there's another way to do this. The right way. Without using Cerberus."

Joker snorted. "I think you and I have a very different idea of what's easy, Commander. That would hardly be the word I'd choose to describe the past three and half months."

She mustered a weary, half-hearted smile. "Thanks Joker." She leveraged herself out of the chair. "I'm going to…"

"Go rest?" he suggested hopefully. She looked like a soft breeze would blow her over.

"Sure. That sounds nice."

"Good. Well then, nighty night, don't let the bed bugs bite."

"Night, Joker."

She left, the door whooshing shut behind her, and Joker frowned.

All right, so she wasn't exactly her normal self, that was certain. She wasn't exactly _okay_, no matter what she'd said. But of course she wouldn't be. She _was_ human, beneath it all. She needed time to process stuff, just like everyone else. And she'd had a whole lotta stuff to process lately.

But it was okay. She was Commander Fucking Shepard. And she had been before Alenko. Long before Alenko. She could do it again, without him.

Joker stood laboriously from his chair and exited the empty briefing room, heading for the Port Observatory. He really had no idea anymore if his whole plan to reunite the two had been for better or for worse, but he thought maybe a few hard drinks might help clear it up.


	15. Whole

**A/N:** I am going to take a second here to plug the most amazing Mass Effect fan-made work I think I have yet come across. If you did not like the ME3 ending, there is a certain comic created by a certain **koobismo on DeviantArt dot com** that you must **IMMEDIATLY go read**! The real beginning of his version of the ending starts with Episode 6, . You will not regret it. The graphics are awesome, the story entirely BRILLIANT and EXACTLY what I think all of us had expected from BioWare. Not only that, but he starts giving music recommendations for each Episode as you read which are just PERFECT and really flesh out the experience. And now he is casting voice actors who actually sound very close to the real actors to make Audio versions of the each episode, complete with sound effects and epic music. All I can say is that I no longer feel like there is a gaping void where the epic and heartwrenching ending of ME3 should be, and I HAD to share with everyone else! Also if you view his work and love it as much as I do, support him by buying the soundtrack to his game development project, which you can find here: (take out the spaces, you know how this site is about sharing links!) koobismo . bandcamp . com.

Begin reading the ending the ME universe and characters deserved here: koobismo . deviantart dot com / gallery / # / d4tamm9

And now back to your regularly scheduled programming! (Which I also hope you are enjoying!)

* * *

**Whole**

* * *

Councilor Anderson stood in his darkened office, looking out his window at the sparkling expanses of the Citadel's arms below and beside and above, reaching out as if to embrace the purple spread of the Widow nebula beyond. He clasped his hands behind his back and sighed heavily, frowning.

He'd been standing there long enough to watch the day cycle wane and the night cycle begin… the blue sky fading gradually into the breath-taking panoramic that greeted him now. It really was an incredible view. A view he didn't stop to appreciate often enough.

"_It's her." _ Alenko's words still echoed in his head.

"_You're sure? What about the scars?"_

_Alenko shook his head, looking as haggard as Anderson had ever seen him. "I don't know. Maybe a result of the resurrection process, or… maybe an attempt to disguise her identity… I don't know. But it's her, sir. What she said… what she knows… there's no way she's a fake."_

_Anderson took a second to process this. "I see. Did you confirm Cerberus presence?"_

_Alenko fidgeted, an action especially notable because Alenko _never _fidgeted. "Yes sir. But it doesn't look like they're behind the attacks. They arrived after it started and… she's got a salarian scientist who developed a way to deactivate the stasis fields remotely through an omni-tool. We'll be able to free everyone left alot more quickly now. Sir, she says these aliens are the Collectors, and thinks they're working with the Reapers."_

_Anderson didn't feel the need to mention she'd already told him that the day she'd marched unannounced into his office. He folded one arm across his stomach, propped the other elbow on top of it, and tapped his chin with a finger. "Did she present any proof?"_

"_No sir. Nothing solid. Mentioned the presence of husks…" Alenko stopped, his head dropping into a hand as he rubbed his eyes. "There _were_ husks, sir. A _lot_ of them. More than I've ever seen with the exception of Feros." He looked up again. "I haven't yet completed a full sweep of the colony, but there aren't any Dragon's Teeth at least in the immediate vicinity."_

"_Meaning the husks came with the Collectors. And only Reaper tech is known to create husks."_

"_Exactly, sir."_

"_Did Shepard give you anything else? Any idea of where she might be going next? Who's in charge of her mission? Her objectives?"_

"_She appears to be in charge, sir," Alenko offered. "At least of her team. She was the only one giving orders. But knowing Cerberus… there's no way to tell exactly how much power she actually has. Her only objective seemed to be stopping the Collector attacks on our colonies and discovering the Reaper connection, if there really was one. There was no mention of how they planned to carry out those objectives, or where they might be headed." He hesitated briefly, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, I should have stopped them."_

_Anderson continued tapping his chin. "No, it's better this way."_

"_Sir?"_

"_The Council isn't helping and Alliance Command hasn't quite figured out what to do yet. Our fleets are stretched thin enough as it is. If Shepard can do something about the attacks… maybe we should let her."_

"_But sir… Cerberus…"_

"_We'll give her a little more time, Commander. I'll keep our operatives on the lookout for her. We'll keep our eye on her. Who knows, in the end she might even lead us right to the Illusive Man. Wouldn't that be something?"_

_Another slight hesitation. "Yes sir."_

"_I want a full written report as soon as you get everyone out of stasis, Alenko."_

_The man straightened a little, giving a crisp nod. "Yes sir."_

"_And I'm sending you reinforcements and a science team. I want every scrap those bastards left behind studied, categorized and analyzed. We need all the information we can get on this."_

"_Understood, sir."_

"_Carry on, Commander."_

_Alenko snapped a perfect salute. "Yes sir."_

_The Councilor disconnected the call and stared at the blank terminal screen for a long moment. Then he very slowly meandered over to the window, attempting to digest this new development._

This was going to be hell to navigate politically. Some members of Alliance Centcom were already calling for Shepard's head, whether or not she proved to be the original or just a clone. They said either way she was a security risk, a liability.

And they were mostly right.

The other members of the Council seemed disinterested in the situation, claiming it was a human problem much like the attacks on human colonies. They were still wary of Shepard in general, considering she had been the one to order all forces to attack Sovereign, leaving the _Destiny Ascension_ vulnerable and resulting in it being ultimately destroyed, the previous Council along with it. They also seemed to clearly remember how the previous Council had refused to listen to her. Anderson had a suspicion that the current Council feared Shepard's return, if only because they'd been given the impression that Commander Shepard destroyed those who opposed her.

And they were mostly right.

Anderson sighed, watching the lines of gravcars and starships criss-crossing the sky, and suddenly the solution presented itself.

He could use the Council's fears about Shepard to his advantage. He would have to look up the Citadel's statutes on Spectre status, but he was pretty sure one couldn't lose the rank if they turned out to be Missing in Action instead of dead. The Council didn't have to know all the details… he'd just have to sell them on the fact Shepard should still be a Spectre. Convince them that supporting this decision would be a mark in their favor as far as Shepard was concerned. Convince them that since Shepard was already hot on the Collectors' tails and preventing attacks on human colonies as demonstrated with the Horizon incident, officially recognizing her Spectre status would put an end to the frequent demands that they _do something_ about that particular problem. And consequently, the official reinstatement of her Spectre status would insulate her from further pursuit by Centcom brass. At least for a while. Bringing in an active Spectre for trial was much more complicated than bringing in a rogue soldier.

A win-win all around.

Anderson spun on his heel, walking quickly back to his terminal and logging in with his Councilor's credentials. This had to be done as soon as possible to give Shepard the best possible chance at completing her task. What would happen once she had completed it, he hadn't the faintest idea. He supposed it would depend on what _she_ did. Would she continue to work with Cerberus? Would she attempt to come back to the Alliance? Would she cut ties to both and turn independent, possibly mercenary?

His stomach clenched at the thought even as his fingers flew over his holographic interface, scheduling a Council meeting for the next morning. He shook his head, as if that could chase away the unpleasant notion.

One thing at a time.

* * *

Kaidan didn't remember the trip back to his HQ building. He went through the motions of putting away his weapons and stripping off his hardsuit, then trudged down the hall to his private quarters. He locked the door, went to his shower and started the water. Peeled off the filthy layers of underarmor and left them in a pile on the floor. Unplugged his amp and set it very carefully on the edge of the bathroom sink, frowning at its fine layer of dust. He'd have to clean that, too.

But first, himself.

He stepped in, sighing as the warm water hit his skin. He turned his face up into the spray and closed his eyes, letting the water wash away the remains of the worst day of his life. Amp implantation, murdering Vrynnus, the fight against Saren, being kidnapped by Rahna, the Alchera incident… today had topped them all.

Thirty six hours since the Collectors attacked. Thirty three hours since she left. Forty hours since he'd slept, bathed, or eaten any real food.

A nightmare whirlwind of freeing his marines and colonists, trying to organize and comfort them, making reports and conducting debriefings, issuing orders and collecting samples, reinforcing defenses, repairing communications…

The salarian scientist called Dr. Solus had not wanted to leave so soon after developing the omni-tool algorithm that had successfully transmitted to and shut down the tiny subcutaneous stasis generators, but Shepard's team had been true to their word. They were off-planet forty-seven minutes after he'd started clocking their given hour. He still didn't know if that had been the right call. They had left with samples and readings, after all.

Kaidan leaned his forehead against the cool tile wall, trying not to think about the fact he'd freely handed Collector technology to Cerberus.

And he'd let them walk. A confirmed, known Cerberus Operative and four others working with her. Gone, right out from under his nose.

When the numbness of it all had started wearing off, right about the time he was waiting for his call to be connected to Anderson, he had suddenly wondered if what he'd done would get him court-martialed. By the time Anderson's holo-image had appeared over his terminal, he was pretty sure it would. But he'd been too exhausted to worry about it like he should have.

Not like he would have really been successful in any attempt to apprehend them, anyway. Five against one were not good odds. But he could have at least tried. All that talk about how terrible Cerberus was and he hadn't even _tried _to arrest anyone. He had _wanted_ to, surely. For a second he had even wanted to shoot Operative Lawson right in her smiling face.

But he hadn't. Because of _her_.

Because for some reason, despite it all, even after everything she'd put him through, and even as much as he fought it… he still trusted her, on some remote, basal level. Part of him still desperately hoped she really _did _know what she was doing, she really _didn't_ answer to Cerberus, and she really _would_ find the reason behind the Collector attacks and stop them.

Luckily for him, Councilor Anderson seemed to feel the same way. The man had never asked why no arrests were made, never brought up the possibility of a court-martial.

Because after all, if anyone could sell their soul to an organization like Cerberus and still come back whole, Shepard could.

Kaidan braced himself against the walls of the shower, staring down at the water that swirled around the drain.

Was she actually doing the right thing? Being a soldier meant sometimes you had to make hard choices. Sometimes you felt like you were sacrificing your humanity in order to save the most lives. He had watched Shepard make those kinds of choices. Had always dreaded making them himself. Was that what he was doing now? Letting her make the hard choice so he didn't have to?

Was that what Anderson was doing?

His hands curled into fists against the tile and he clenched his teeth. Nothing made any damn sense anymore. Elizabeth Shepard, the woman he had loved and trusted and thought he'd known better than anyone else, was out there doing something he once would have sworn on his life she'd never do, and here he was questioning the one thing in his life he'd never questioned – his place within the Alliance.

_You did the right thing. You have a job here; these people need you right now. _

The words sounded hollow, even in his own head.

_There's no reason good enough to ever work with Cerberus. The Collectors could be stopped without them. She's cutting corners, taking unacceptable risks…_

He growled in frustration and turned up the water temperature, hoping it could scald away the confusion, the lies, the tension still knotting up his back. He never thought he'd wish to be numb again, but right now anything was better than feeling this torturous uncertainty, this maddening helplessness. He closed his eyes and let the steaming water rush over him.

_Goddamnit, Shepard. Please come back. Please come back whole._

* * *

Shepard stood on the balcony outside of Liara T'soni's office in Nos Astra, gripping the railing hard, inhaling deeply through her nose and exhaling slowly through her mouth, trying to focus on the glorious sunset and the way it splashed brilliant color against the gleaming skyscrapers.

"_I gave you to them, Shepard. Because they said they could rebuild you…. The Shadow Broker was going to sell your corpse to the Collectors…. I knew Cerberus would use you for their own business. And I let it happen. Because… I couldn't let you go. I'm sorry…"_

She closed her eyes, clutching the railing until her fingers went numb. _Breathe. Just breathe._

There were soft footsteps behind her. The buzz of asari biotics brushed against her senses, followed by the exotic, spicy scent of body oils on the breeze. "Shepard," Liara whispered from her right, sounding terrified. "I am _so_ sorry."

Another part of her heart broke at the voice – it was the Liara she had used to know: the young, naïve, eager and babbling archaeologist. Not the cold and bitter information broker who'd sat in that Nos Astra office and talked about viciously murdering people. Sometimes Shepard wondered if she had changed people more with her death than she ever had in life.

She shook her head once, eyes still closed. "No, Liara," she whispered back. "It's okay." What else could she say? That she wished to be dead? Maybe it wasn't always better to be alive than dead, but at the very least, it was better to be able to _do_ something than not. "It's okay," she repeated.

"You don't… hate me?"

Shepard's lips twitched with the vestiges of a smile, the initial wave of shock finally beginning to wear off. "No. Of course not."

The asari exhaled explosively.

Shepard opened her eyes, releasing her death grip on the railing. "I'm… glad you did what you did," she said, glancing into Liara's wide blue eyes before casting her gaze back out to the blazing sunset. "This mission is important. And… well. I have a feeling it wouldn't be getting done if you hadn't of given me to Cerberus."

Liara was silent for a long moment, then nodded. "Thank you for saying that, Shepard."

"I mean it." She sighed. "I could use your resources on the _Normandy _again, Liara."

The asari made a noise of agreement, leaning her elbows on the railing and looking down at the bustling Nos Astra Exchange. "I know. I would like nothing more than to join you. But… my friend…"

Shepard reached over and clasped Liara's hand. "You'll find him."

"Yes," Liara said, her voice turning husky, edged again with violence. "I will."

Another set of approaching boots interrupted Shepard before she could warn Liara to be careful. She turned slightly to see Lawson step onto the balcony, and the expression on the woman's face turned Shepard's insides to ice. She had never seen the Cerberus operative look concerned. Stubbornly determined, yes. Annoyed, yes. Angry, sometimes. But really, truly worried… actually concerned? Never.

This was the first visible crack in the woman's impenetrable wall of professionalism and efficiency. Her blue eyes locked with Shepard's, her mouth a tight line, her body rigid and hand already resting on the grip of her pistol. "Shepard," she said tightly, almost reluctantly. "I need your help."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. There was nothing particularly strange about that; this whole mission was technically something Lawson needed "help" with, after all.

The woman looked over to Liara briefly, then took a few steps closer to Shepard. "It's about my sister."


	16. Gray

**A/N**: Sorry for the slight delay in posting this one. RL got in the way this time! There's a theme song for this chapter if you care to listen, which can be found here: koobismo . bandcamp dot com / track / the-sign-in-the-sky (without spaces of course). Hope you enjoy, and thanks again for reading!

* * *

**Gray**

* * *

_One month later._

* * *

_Everything was burning._

_Kaidan felt roasted alive in his hardsuit, sweat stinging his eyes and running down his neck. But he couldn't leave. He had to find her._

_Screams of fellow crew members not lucky enough to escape the fires raked across his nerves, shooting adrenaline into his already over-taxed system. He panted, feeling suffocated in the close confines of his sealed helmet, using all his willpower not to reach up and yank it off._

_The _Normandy_'s air was swiftly rushing out through numerous hull breaches, and the fires were eagerly consuming what little was left. Taking off his helmet would mean certain death._

"_Lieutenant!" She barked his rank with enough force to make him flinch, and he spun around only to see her armored figure standing mere feet away, enveloped in flames._

_His heart wedged into his throat, cutting off his voice as he tried to call out to her, to warn her of the danger._

"_I said abandon ship, soldier! Get to a pod! Now!"_

_He started to nod, to acknowledge the order, but a sudden blooming of dread in the pit of his stomach stopped him. Instead, he stood firm. "No," he shouted over the noise of the screams and klaxons. "I'm not leaving you! Not this time."_

_She advanced on him swiftly and he was suddenly lifted off his feet and slammed into a wall. His vision blacked briefly, and when it cleared again he found himself standing in the Atrium of the Citadel Tower, staring at a massive pile of rubble where Shepard had once been._

_His mouth dropped open, his legs giving out and sending him to his knees. But before the full horror could settle over him, a gloved hand reached down to him. He blinked at it, following the arm up to a very familiar face._

"_Elizabeth," he choked out. "I thought… I thought I lost you…"_

_She smiled at him, a real, genuine smile full of warmth and life. He grasped her arm and she gripped his, helping him to his feet. "You pulled me back, Kaidan," she said. "You pulled me back from wherever I was going."_

_The relief was overwhelming, and all at once he realized her eyes were unshielded, bright and clear. Her face so close, her skin so touchable… He leaned toward her, his lips brushing hers, but then a sharp prick to his neck made him jerk back with a curse._

_A hand went to the fiery sting and swatted away a palm-sized insect. And then the buzzing was everywhere, surrounding them, and near panic gripped him as he recognized the swarms all too well._

"_Run!" he shouted at Shepard, groping for a weapon. _

_He had none._

_The paralysis was already taking effect, his movements slowing as he struggled against the increasing press of gravity. Shepard merely watched him, her hair blowing in the vortex of wind created by countless thousands of wings as the insects amassed around her, the buzz growing to a deafening roar…_

Kaidan jerked awake, bolting upright in the bed, and blinked in the dim blue light of his biotic corona. He looked around the room, letting his gaze rest long on familiar objects, letting reality sink in as he tried to regain control of his racing heart. He growled, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

_Just a nightmare. Just a dream._

But he couldn't get the images out of his head. That feeling of complete uselessness…

His biotics surged again and he immediately refocused his attention on only his breathing. Nothing but breath. In and out. In and out. The local gravity field around him slowly stabilized, and Kaidan dared open his eyes, still stubbornly refusing to remember the nightmare.

They were getting worse. Causing subconscious flares even when he slept without his amp. The other night he'd thrown the crate serving as his nightstand - and everything on it - into the wall across the room before he'd even been fully conscious.

Luckily no one had noticed. Yet. But if it continued to worsen… if he couldn't get it under control…

Kaidan threw back the tangled mess of sheets and padded barefoot to the bathroom, running cold water into the sink and splashing it over his face. For so many years he'd fought the prejudices against biotics, fought the stereotype of L2s, especially. For so many years he'd been one of the lucky few, remaining sane and in control.

Maybe his time was finally up. Maybe he was finally going crazy, just like Rahna had said he would.

He shut off the water, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like hell.

Maybe he'd just been stuck on this damn planet too long, living in daily reminders of the Collectors and their paralytic swarms, their claustrophobic pods and glowing orange eyes. Trying to help an entire colony crawl from the economic tailspin of having a third of their people vanish. And it certainly didn't help that those who were left were still terrified out of their wits, jumping at noises in the dark and shrieking at the faintest hint of an insect's buzz. Still mourning those they had lost, still looking for answers and desperately seeking some kind of closure.

Answers and closure he couldn't give them. He could only do his damnedest to make sure they were ready if the Collectors happened to come back. He hoped to hell they wouldn't… a month of running himself ragged, orchestrating cooperation between the colony's officials and the military, Alliance science teams and civilian researchers, and Horizon _still_ wasn't fully operational, much less any more prepared for a Collector attack than they had been before.

Except for maybe that the GARDIAN guns had remained functional for the entire month. And then there was the omni-tool program Admiral Hackett had forwarded to him that when activated, would supposedly prevent the swarms from stinging. A program supposedly written by Dr. Solus, and sent to Admiral Hackett by Shepard herself shortly after the Horizon attack. A program that would probably give the colonists the best chance at survival, should another attack come about.

His chest constricted even at the thought of her and Kaidan turned abruptly from the mirror, unable to face himself. He paced the short length of his quarters, running his hands through his hair. A month had done little to dull the shock of seeing her alive, the confusion over whether to believe her story about being brought back to life, or to cling to the ironically more reasonable and yet perhaps more terrible idea that she had been alive all this time and simply lied to him. The utter impossibility of it all still made his head hurt when he tried to sort it out, and the nightmares that had plagued his sleep almost constantly since she'd left certainly didn't help.

She was always a part of his dreams now. Always in danger, always out of reach. He could never get to her in time, never shout out his warnings, never convince her not to leap. The nightmares always ended with him being unable to save her. Helpless.

Kaidan stopped pacing, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, clenching and unclenching his fists. She had helped the Alliance by sharing Dr. Solus' inventions. Maybe… maybe she really had been telling the truth. Maybe she really didn't answer to Cerberus. At least not yet.

But how long could she hold out? How long until she started buying into their lies and propaganda? How long until they found her trigger and squeezed just enough to make her turn?

_No. She's smarter than that. She knows their games. She wouldn't give them anything to grab hold of…_

Of course, once upon a time he wouldn't have thought she'd let Cerberus in as far as she had, either. Wouldn't have thought she'd agree to operate a Cerberus ship with a Cerberus crew in the first place. He had once been proud of the fact he'd known Commander Elizabeth Shepard better than anyone else… considered himself privileged that she ever let down her guard around him, that she shared her fears and triumphs with him. But if the events of the past few months had taught him anything, it was that he had not really known Elizabeth Shepard at all.

The realization made him sick. Made him doubt. Made him question things he didn't like to question.

He'd been so certain of everything when he'd joined the Alliance. There were bad guys and good guys, things you did as an officer and things you didn't do. Regulations that were followed, no exceptions. Reports to file, all following the same specific format. The chain of command. A job with clearly defined parameters. Expectations laid out in black and white.

And then he'd been assigned to the _Normandy_, and all the lines he'd always followed so carefully had started to blur. Or bend. Or just be ignored completely.

And now, after he'd looked straight into her eyes for the first time in two years and _knew_ it was her, somehow, impossibly, back from the dead, with _Cerberus_… everything just seemed so goddamned… _gray_.

There were no lines anymore. No black and white, no right and wrong. Not in this universe where Shepard worked for Cerberus.

He sighed, his shoulders dropping, and closed his eyes against the pain starting in the back of his skull. _I should have gone with her. I could have made sure they didn't get to her. Could have kept her on the right track. Could have kept her from becoming what she hates…_

_And flushed my entire career down the toilet._

The same argument he'd been having with himself for a month now. Kaidan trudged to the supply trunk at the end of his bunk and rummaged around inside until he found a bottle of painkillers. He popped a few pills and swallowed them dry, hoping to head off the migraine before it turned truly terrible.

He tossed the bottle back into the trunk and shut it with a thunk, knowing the real question beneath it all was if Shepard was really doing the right thing by working, however temporarily, with a terrorist organization. If she was, then it was probably worth ending his career to help make sure her mission was successful. For the greater good. And if everything worked out, it was very possible there would be little consequence for their transgressions anyway, much like they had escaped court-martial for stealing a very expensive prototype warship since they had saved the galaxy and all.

But if Shepard was wrong about this one…

Things could go very bad, very fast. He just couldn't be sure anymore. Too much goddamned gray, everywhere.

He scowled, stalking over to his desk and powering up his terminal. So maybe he couldn't be sure about her motivations or her judgment or her story about what had happened to her for the past two years. But the one thing he was sure of, beyond any doubt, was that he couldn't bear to lose her again. And the longer he waited, the more he knew he had to tell her…

He had to tell her that.

He still had the source code from the program Hackett had forwarded to him. It would take some time and effort, but he was confident he could backtrack that and find her correspondence address to get a message to her. He'd have to encrypt it, of course, but he'd had plenty of experience with that, too.

Kaidan pulled up his email, then hesitated.

He didn't want to send an email. Too impersonal. Too easily faked. He wanted her to know it was really him. That he really meant every single word. He queued up his terminal's recorder, disabling the video. He didn't want her to see him like this… but at least this way he could actually talk to her.

He took a moment to compose his thoughts, then swallowed hard. _Here goes nothing._

He touched the RECORD button, took a deep breath, and began.

* * *

_The smell. She shouldn't have been able to smell it. Why could she smell it?_

_Rotting flesh. Decay. Blood. _

_She raised a hand to her face, felt the hard lines of her sealed helmet. She adjusted the air cycler of her hardsuit, but it didn't seem to help. Every breath intensified the nausea building in the back of her throat._

_She tried to ignore it, pushing onward through the twisting corridors of the Collector ship. The colonists needed her. She had to save them. _

_The hallway opened into a cavernous space, the walls and roof lined with hundreds of thousands of pods. She stopped abruptly, staring upward, her stomach dropping like a stone. So many. How would she ever find them? She couldn't search every pod…_

_Time. She was running out of time. There was never enough time._

_The buzzing of flies drew her attention, her head turning toward the right. Flies? Something deep within her balked, a cold creeping across her skin. A pile of something unrecognizable had been heaped against the wall, and Shepard very slowly stepped toward it._

_She tried to stop herself. She didn't want to see. But her feet kept moving, and she inhaled sharply as the shapes became identifiable._

_Bodies._

_She wretched, barely controlling herself. She… _knew_ them. Her crew… her parents… her sister… some of her unit from Akuze…_

_Kaidan._

_She hit her knees, her rifle sliding from nerveless hands. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. They were all gone, all of them. She was too late…_

Shepard jerked awake with the echo of a scream in her ears and found herself standing upright, arms outstretched in front of her and pistol gripped in both hands. She blinked, adrenaline still prickling across her skin, heart roaring in her ears, hair matted to her forehead with sweat.

A bright blue flicker made her spin, weapon still raised, and she looked across the room and up the stairs at a familiar blue orb.

"Shepard, do you require assistance?"

Reality finally broke through her disorientation and she remembered where she was. Her cabin aboard the _SR2_. The Cerberus ship. With a Cerberus AI. And the Illusive Man always watching. Always pulling her strings.

"Go away, EDI!" she snapped viciously.

"As you wish, Commander." The avatar blinked out, and Shepard's trigger finger twitched, itching to destroy the holographic interface. She resisted, just barely, and only because discharging a weapon inside the ship would set off numerous alarms and bring various people running to her door.

She tossed the pistol to her nightstand and exhaled explosively, dropping to sit on the edge of the bed and running her hands through her sweat-damp hair. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her biotic corona still flaring. She couldn't make it stop. Couldn't get it to calm down.

Her hands shook.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

The nightmares had been getting worse ever since stepping foot on that damn Collector ship. She'd always suffered from occasional bad dreams… it was sort of inevitable given the kind of things she'd experienced thus far in life. Usually they were about Mindoir and her family. Sometimes about Akuze. She had learned to deal with them, eventually. Learned to accept them and move past them.

But these new nightmares… they were different. Every gory detail seemed etched into her mind, completely inescapable, doomed to replay over and over even during her waking hours. Unless she was actively firing rounds into an enemy's face, they were always lurking at the edge of her consciousness. Everyone she cared about lying dead in a heap. That sickening realization of being too late…

Maybe it had something to do with the upgrades Cerberus had given her. Upgrades she had never wanted, never asked for. Their tech was in her and she couldn't get it _out_. Not without killing herself, anyway.

Shepard eyed her pistol, a brief, insane idea flashing through her head before being immediately dismissed again. Not that the thought didn't have merit – at least that way she could be sure they weren't manipulating her somehow, or wouldn't activate some trigger after the mission that would turn her into a mindless Cerberus automaton. And the absolute, utter _freedom _that nanosecond of thought had presented was certainly tempting.

But… no. There was too much to do. That's why Liara had gone through so much trouble to steal her body from the Shadow Broker, after all. Why Cerberus had spent so much time and money painstakingly bringing her back to life. Because there was a galaxy to save. Again.

And for some reason she still cared enough to want to save it.

She turned her palms over on her lap, staring at the now nearly-invisible lines of scars decorating the undersides of her arms, the calluses that had developed on her hands from so much time holding and reloading rifles. _Why do I care?_

The memory of the raid on Mindoir surged to the front of her mind, the images and sounds she had never wanted to remember still as clear as the day they had happened, and a sob hitched in her throat. That's why she cared. She cared because of all the people who didn't care, who didn't do anything to help those who desperately needed it. She had joined the Alliance so she _could_ do something, and she sure as hell wasn't going to quit now.

Shepard stood from the bed abruptly, pushing away the memories and the nightmare, needing something to occupy her thoughts. She swiped angrily at the tears blurring her vision as she dropped into the chair at her desk. But then she just sat there, having no idea what to do. She was just so damn _tired_…

Her hand reached out of its own accord and touched a small icon on the corner of her terminal's display. The picture opened, filling the screen with a familiar face, and the very sight of him squeezed the breath from her lungs in a rush.

She hadn't allowed herself to look at his picture since the day she'd left Horizon. Yet she hadn't quite been able to bring herself to permanently delete it, either. To even save the file had been an impulse decision, made shortly after she'd come aboard the _SR-2_. It was the picture from his public service record, and he looked every bit the marine she knew he was in it. Every bit the marine he'd proven himself to be on Horizon.

But not entirely the same Kaidan Alenko she had remembered. For a brief, precious few moments on that day she had found him, as he'd held her as tightly as he ever had, she had been hopeful. Then, as tension stiffened his body and he pushed her away, she had known.

She'd lost him.

She'd told herself it didn't matter. Told herself it was better this way. There could be no second-guessing herself this way. No concern over playing favorites, over letting emotions influence battlefield tactics. Yes. This was better.

Except for nights like tonight, when it became glaringly obvious how very much he _did_ matter. How much she had come to value his opinion and insight, his comforting touch, his calming voice. How much she had trusted him, relied on him. How easily his encouragement could bolster her resolve… how easily a word of suspicion could make her doubt herself.

She closed the picture abruptly and stood from her chair, pacing furiously. She was _using_ Cerberus, not working for them. Joker agreed, as did Chakwas and Garrus. She hadn't betrayed Kaidan or the Alliance… she had fucking _died_. The hurt that burned in her chest only made her angrier and her corona flared again. After all they had been through together… all they had shared… how could he not believe her?

There was a soft knock at her door and Elizabeth startled, whirling. She struggled to control her biotics, brushing her eyes with the back of her hand and clearing her throat. "Not a good time," she called out.

"Of course it's not a good time," the muffled tones of Dr. Chakwas called back. "It's two in the morning! But I've got something here I'd like to share with you."

Shepard frowned. "At two in the morning?"

"Yes."

Shepard waited, but the doctor offered nothing more. She sighed, then touched the control to unlock the door. As soon as the panels had parted the older woman whisked through, brandishing something that reflected the soft glow of the fish tank in each hand.

Upon closer inspection, Shepard realized it was a bottle and two glasses. She squeezed her eyes shut, massaging the bridge of her nose. "Doctor, I really don't think this is a good time for –"

"I was putting in a late night," Chakwas interrupted, trotting down the short flight of stairs to set her goods on the table. "Studying up on our friend Mr. Krios' condition. I'm afraid my knowledge of drell anatomy is terribly inadequate. Don't see many of them as an Alliance physician, after all. But anyway." She gestured for Shepard to join her, uncorking the bottle she'd brought and splashing a little of the amber liquid into each glass. "Seeing as how you were kind enough to provide me with this excellent little present, I thought I should share it with you."

Shepard kept pinching the bridge of her nose, but cracked one eye open as the sharp aroma of liquor filled her cabin. "The Serrice Ice Brandy?" she asked, noting that her voice sounded like death warmed over. She was sure her disheveled appearance matched it perfectly. "At two in the morning?"

Chakwas gave a little shrug. "Okay, so I admit that EDI may have alerted me to a disturbance in your cabin –"

Shepard growled, her arms dropping back to her sides as she shot the holographic interface a glare.

"But I _was_ already putting in a late night," the doctor continued. "And I told you before that I always regretted not opening that last bottle of brandy. So… my brain was beginning to get all muddled anyway, and when EDI told me you might require assistance –"

"I don't require anything," Shepard snapped.

"- I thought now might be as good a time as any to crack this one open."

"Isn't the psycho-analysis stuff Chambers' job?"

Chakwas paused in her over-embellished motions of recorking the bottle, pursing her lips and shooting Shepard the narrow-eyed glare she usually reserved for the times Shepard had failed to follow her medical advice. "This is not a psych eval, Shepard. If it were, Chambers would be in here instead of me. No." She set the bottle on the table, then pointed to the couch. "This is a simple drink between two friends who both find sleep evading them. So… join me for a drink?"

The warm smile returned to her face, and Shepard finally gave in, too exhausted to argue any further. She drug herself to the couch and collapsed onto it. Maybe the brandy's warmth could chase away the emptiness that haunted her, ease the tension that ceaselessly hummed through her nerves. She took the glass Chakwas offered her and lifted it in a silent toast, trying to smile back.

She could only hope.


	17. Imperfection

**A/N:** So I'm running a little behind schedule here! My previous 10 day posting routine has been disrupted and I'm not sure I'll be able to get it back. However, I'm hoping I can still post about every two weeks! Thank you so much again to everyone who has been reading and reviewing, I appreciate it! **PS:** This chapter contains references to events which occur in "Approaching Normal", if you're curious.

* * *

**Imperfection**

* * *

Miranda stood behind her desk, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the image of the Illusive Man filling her terminal's screen.

"Keep an eye on Shepard," he was saying, then paused to take a drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around his head. "She's been increasingly short with me lately, and I know she's been keeping contact with Councilor Anderson and Admiral Hackett. We've made sure to keep her knowledge of Cerberus need-to-know only, but I suspect she's sharing even what little she knows with the Alliance."

The flutter of conflicting thoughts his statement brought to mind were expertly masked behind a neutral expression. "Of course," she said smoothly. "Don't worry, I'll make sure she doesn't leak anything important."

The first blatant lie she'd ever told the Illusive Man. For a moment her heart thundered in her ears, her muscles coiled, waiting to see if he would know.

"Keep me informed of your progress."

"Will do, sir."

His image winked out, the connection terminated. Miranda shook her head. He didn't know. The all-powerful, all-seeing Illusive Man wasn't as omnipotent as she had once thought. She could see it now. All the little holes in his operations, the flaws behind his methods, the danger of his thought processes. And all because of the incident with her sister.

If she had not cared so much for her sister, if the Illusive Man had not told her – and rather brusquely, at that - to forget family ties when she had first brought up her concerns, if Shepard had not agreed to help no questions asked… if Shepard had not been so maddeningly sympathetic throughout the whole ordeal…

Maybe she would have remained blind to it all. Maybe she would have remained his faithful servant, his loyal operative, until the day she died.

But as it were…

Something had changed that day. She'd felt it as it happened, almost like the planet of Illium itself had shifted in orbit. A slow revolution of the ground beneath her feet as her shields and barrier had fizzled out, her pistol ejected its spent clip, and she was left in the wide-open, facing down a rushing wall of gravity with no time to do anything about it. And then Shepard had slid effortlessly in front of her, absorbing Enyala's biotic attack with a barrier of her own and forcing the asari back behind cover with a blast from her shotgun.

Giving Miranda time to duck into cover of her own. Reload her pistol. Recharge her shields and biotics.

Lawson had always believed that were she to present such an opportunity to Shepard, the woman would let her reap the rewards of her fatal mistake. That's how the Illusive Man operated. Those were the rules of Cerberus. The team was only as strong as the weakest link and battle quickly brought weaknesses to light. If you couldn't hold your weight, couldn't do your job, got stupid for even just one second and landed out in the open with no shields and no weapon – then you were no good to the team, and therefore no good to the mission.

And anyone not good enough for the mission wasn't worth having around at all.

Miranda swiped her hands through her hair, pacing over to the tiny window of her quarters and staring out at the blue-shifted light. She had used to believe that. Believed it so firmly, in fact, that she had left people to die on more than one occasion. Good people.

Good, smart people who had just let stupid slip in for one second. One fraction of a second. And she'd let them die for it. Because she'd wanted perfection. Perfection in everything.

That's why she had recommended a control chip for Shepard. It would have been the perfect solution. The Illusive Man would have gotten the perfect person for the job, the perfect leader, without the risk of her going AWOL or refusing to cooperate. She realized now the Illusive Man was also in pursuit of perfection, but he had known from the beginning something that she was only just now beginning to understand.

Sometimes to achieve perfection, you had to bring together imperfect parts.

Like Shepard. A woman who should have been a psychological mess given her background, but who had instead turned the trauma inside out and used it for strength. A woman who'd had every opportunity to become a pompous ass after saving the galaxy from Sovereign, but who had instead simply gone back to work hunting bad guys. A woman whose first question upon waking up on a strange space station with explosions and gunfire going off all around her had been about her crew.

A woman who had unflinchingly stepped directly into harm's way to save a person she clearly did not like, who worked for an organization she hated, during a fight that wasn't even a part of their primary mission.

Miranda sighed, dropping down into the nearest plush chair. For all of her genetic excellence, she knew – now better than ever - that she was far from perfect. In fact, the strangest thing about all the revelations that had come crashing down upon her since the incident with her sister was the recognition that out of everyone on this boat… Shepard was probably as close to perfect as Miranda had ever seen.

And the Illusive Man had sent Shepard into a trap more than once. So much time and money spent reconstructing her and he still felt it necessary to take such risks. Sure, he claimed to know that Shepard would fight her way out of such traps, claimed to have no doubts about it… but Miranda knew better. She'd spent months with the real-live Shepard now, watched her in action and analyzed her quiet moments. Shepard might be pretty damn close to a so-called perfect human being but she was still that – a human being. Still mortal. Still capable of being killed, especially if she was continuously and knowingly put into situations with odds stacked against her.

The Collector ship had been the last straw.

Everyone was expendable to the Illusive Man, even his pet project Shepard, if it came down to it.

Miranda's eyes narrowed again. "Unacceptable," she spat aloud, pushing herself from the chair and striding quickly over to her terminal. She had not spent two years of her life losing sleep poring over medical data and agonizing over every cell and cybernetic implant just so the Illusive Man could recklessly gamble away the near-perfect result. She wouldn't let him waste Shepard. She wouldn't turn her back on the woman who had saved her sister… who had saved _her_.

Her terminal chimed just as she sat down, indicating she'd received a new incoming message in her quarantine file. Per the Illusive Man's instructions, she was to intercept all incoming communications to the crew and determine whether or not they should be allowed to receive them based on pre-established mission parameters. Recently, Miranda had discovered Tali and Shepard working together in an attempt to hack the _Normandy_'s uplink to comm buoys in order to send outgoing messages without her knowledge. Tali had also employed a very impressive encryption code.

Still, it had only taken the Cerberus decoding team a matter of weeks to break it and send the contents of the messages back to her. They were packets of data about Cerberus operations and structure, sent to Admiral Hackett and Councilor Anderson. Limited in knowledge and scope, but enough that the Illusive Man would have wanted to put a stop to them.

Miranda had not told him about the messages. Nor had she confronted Tali and Shepard. She'd said nothing at all, in fact, simply letting the two of them think they were getting away with it. The Illusive Man was becoming too arrogant. Let him be taken down a notch or two.

She opened her quarantine folder and quickly scanned the transmissions. She sent them all to their intended destinations without reading them. She was finished with being the communications gatekeeper.

Her fingers stilled on the interface, however, as she came to the most recent message, labeled simply, "About Horizon." She frowned, glancing to the source code. Her stomach clenched at the name. She hesitated for a long moment; even considered listening to it. _This_ one might actually affect the mission. Whatever he'd said to Shepard on Horizon had certainly affected her; she'd grown more silent and distant with each passing day since.

The main body of the message was encrypted, of course, with a text hint for the encryption key: _My favorite book._

Miranda blinked. Hell, she hadn't even known Alenko read books. There was certainly nothing about his favorite book in any of his records, not even in the journal he'd kept as a kid. She was sure she could break it eventually, just as she had with everything else the crew had tried to hide from her, but….

Miranda sighed heavily, waited one second more, and then gave the message clearance to go to Shepard's terminal.

Shepard had to be allowed to be Shepard. No control chip. No message vetting. No suppressing her information dumps to the Alliance.

Maybe Alenko's message would help. Maybe it wouldn't. Either way, Miranda was certain now that Shepard would see this mission through to the end.

* * *

The brandy was almost gone. Chakwas looked over the rim of her glass and tried to analyze Commander Shepard through the fuzziness of her thoughts and slightly disorienting rock of the couch beneath her. She was pretty sure the other woman looked much more relaxed now, much less like a time bomb waiting to explode. Color had returned to her cheeks, and the doctor had even managed to get a smile or two out of her with tales of some young marines' stupid antics.

It was a start.

Their conversation had come back around to the crew at hand, however, so the doctor decided to mention the person who was on her mind the most these days. "So…" Chakwas drawled, trying hard to keep the slur out of her voice, "it doesn't bother you having an assassin on board?"

"No," Shepard answered simply, shrugging. "I actually find his presence kind of calming."

Chakwas snorted. "Are you serious?"

Shepard squinted into the distance, her words coming slowly as if she, too, had to wade through the fog of alcohol before speaking. "He… has a way of separating himself from what he does. He thinks of his body and his true self – his soul I guess – as two different entities. His body is a tool that kills. But he keeps his essence separate from that. Or… he believes he does." Her gaze turned back to Chakwas. "I like that idea. It keeps him so calm. So focused. I wish… I wish I could do that."

"Maybe he could teach you?"

"He's tried, to a certain extent. But it's hard for him to break it down in a way I can understand. He was trained at such a young age… it's like instinct for him now."

Chakwas nodded thoughtfully. "Quite a crew we've got this time around, eh?"

Shepard smiled, but there was an air of wistfulness about it. "Quite," she agreed. "There are times I wish I had my old crew back… but this one certainly does have its advantages."

"Especially now that Lawson has come around."

"Especially."

Shepard glanced down into her drink and then took another swallow, her eyes casting once again through the display case holding model ships up toward her desk. Chakwas didn't know what she was looking for, what she hoped to see, but the doctor had witnessed a similar sort of restlessness on plenty of people's faces during her long career of caring for marines.

The doctor took another generous sip of her own beverage before speaking gently. "You miss him."

Shepard's green eyes met hers, then dropped down to the floor as she shifted in her chair. "Is it that obvious?"

Chakwas grunted. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. When you get close to someone… well, I don't have to tell you what it's like."

Shepard shook her head, still staring off at the wall as she lifted one hand to absently chew at her thumbnail. Chakwas tilted her head to one side, perplexed at the behavior. She'd never known Shepard to be a nail-biter, although now that she struggled through memories weighted down by brandy, she _had_ noticed the commander's nails looking especially ragged of late.

"He was the first I let in after Akuze," Shepard whispered, and Chakwas suddenly wished she had not drunk so much. Rare were the times when Shepard ventured to be personal, and the doctor wanted to be as attentive and helpful as possible during this exceptional moment.

"After Mindoir… I was… scared for awhile. To let myself even like anyone. To let myself have friends. Eventually the fear wore off enough that I was able to have some iota of a social life. But then…" Shepard drew in a deep breath and let it out explosively. She downed the rest of her brandy, setting the empty cup carefully on the table. "Then Akuze happened. Almost like Mindoir all over again. Except worse. Because I was a full-grown, specially-trained marine. I was in charge. I was capable. Or so I thought."

She poured the rest of the brandy into her glass, her hand remarkably steady. "My whole unit went down in a mess of blood and acid and screaming, and there wasn't shit I could do about it." She sat back again, glass in hand, watching the way the dim blue glow of the fish tank reflected in the tumbler's facets. "After that… I just couldn't make myself connect with people like I had before. I just couldn't get to that same level of… _caring_. I guess because I realized either they or I would probably die during the next mission. Doesn't mean I didn't try my damnedest to keep that from happening… but the realization, the preparation for that possibility, seemed to help."

Chakwas swallowed hard. "Help with what?"

"The pain of losing someone. Anyone." Shepard scoffed, scrubbing her free hand over her face. "I have no idea how the hell Alenko got through that."

The use of his last name made the doctor blink. She hadn't heard Shepard call Kaidan by his last name - unless they were on-duty together – since almost the beginning. "Me neither," she confessed, trying to cover her surprise. "Although to be perfectly honest, Commander, I'm more surprised by Kaidan's disregard for regs on the matter. All his previous tours-of-duty indicate a flawless service record."

Shepard winced. "Agh. Yeah, and there's that."

"On the plus side, that means he must care about you a great deal," she offered. She'd certainly seen evidence enough of that from both sides; any time one of them happened to land in the medical bay and the other was still capable of independent movement, she'd practically had two patients instead of one.

"_Did_. He _did_ care."

"But not anymore?"

Shepard hesitated, downing half of her freshly-poured brandy. "I… I don't think so. I think… I think it's over."

Despite being an excellent military physician who was usually a stickler for rules and regulations, Chakwas felt her heart sink at the words. Shepard and Alenko's triumphs over their tumultuous backgrounds and avoidance of relationships, their caring for one another regardless of whatever danger they were headed into or coming out of, their ability to still work together with utmost professionalism and to complement each other in almost every situation had become something of a legend among her social circles.

She didn't really think herself a gossip and usually avoided discussing any specific happenings aboard her ships when on shore leave or making calls to home, but… damn it all, Shepard and Alenko's story was just so terribly _romantic_.

Or it had been. This was not exactly the ending Chakwas had envisioned for it. She leaned forward, placing a hand on Shepard's knee. "I'm so sorry."

The commander shrugged, too casually. "It's fine. I'll be fine. Better this way, anyway." She emptied her glass for the second time, then eyed the bottle. "Oh dear. It appears I have drank, er… _drunk_ all your brandy, doctor. I shall have to buy you more."

"Oh no, I've had plenty as it is," Chakwas insisted, sipping her own again. "Much more and I'll be sleeping on your couch."

Shepard finally grinned. "Fear not, dear doctor… should you become inebriated to the point of needing to spend the night, your secret is safe with me."

"I appreciate your discretion, Commander, truly. And flattered that you would allow me to sleep on your couch, as well. But… I think I am still able to walk properly." She finished her drink and placed her empty glass beside Shepard's. "Let me check." She stood slowly, arms out for balance as the room spun. She wobbled, then steadied herself. "Ah, yes. I think I've got it, as long as I concentrate."

Shepard gave a snort of a laugh. "Sure?"

"Yes. Yes, I can manage. Thank you, Commander, for entertaining me in the middle of the night."

"Thank you for sharing your brandy," Shepard replied, nodding toward the bottle. "And for the talk. It was… really nice. Been a long time since I've just had a normal conversation with someone."

Chakwas smiled. "Hit me up for conversation anytime, Commander."

"Thanks, doc."

A soft chime from Shepard's terminal startled them both.

Chakwas gave a huff. "Really? Who could _possibly_ be contacting you at this time of night?"

Shepard drug herself wearily off the couch, and Chakwas made a mental note to talk to Lawson about possibly holding all the commander's communiques until a decent time of morning. The woman needed rest. Desperately.

"It's not this time of night everywhere in the galaxy," was the lethargic reply.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then. Just remember to sleep at some point, doctor's orders. Or I'll be forced to shoot you up with tranqs. And don't think I won't do it."

"Oh I know you'll do it."

"Damn right I will." Chakwas made her way very carefully toward the door. The last thing she was going to do was trip and fall flat on her face in front of Shepard, who appeared only mildly buzzed by the enormous amount of alcohol just imbibed. She stopped before leaving, turning to see Shepard climbing the stairs on the way to her terminal.

"Shepard, one more thing."

The woman lifted her eyebrows.

"Just remember it hurts the worst when you lose something great. The pain will pass eventually, but the memories of that something great… those will stay with you forever. Hang on to that."

The woman smiled wanly. "Always have, doc."

"All right, then. Good night, Shepard."

"Night, doc."

* * *

Elizabeth watched Chakwas leave, then sighed and dropped into her desk chair. The brandy _had_ helped, really. The tension humming through her nerves had finally quieted; her knotted muscles had finally relaxed. She actually felt sleepy. Not flat-out exhausted, but a nice, warm and fuzzy _sleepy_. She blinked at her terminal and the flashing message icon. Maybe she should just go to bed and leave it for the morning. It was probably just some boring analytical report, anyway. She had instructed EDI to send her ship-wide system status reports on a daily basis and sometimes they came in at strange hours.

Shepard started to get up, but then stopped.

No, damnit. Someone could be in trouble somewhere, or the Illusive Man could have some other lead for her to follow up on. She'd never be able to sleep unless she at least found out what it was about.

So she sat back down and touched the icon to open her inbox. She had only one new message, its headline glowing brightly at the top of her communications queue: "About Horizon…"

And it was from Kaidan.

Her spine stiffened in shock, her stomach somersaulting. She sat for a moment completely frozen, paralyzed by the tumble of emotions that blazed through her at the sight of his name. The warm, relaxed state brought about by the brandy vanished beneath a rush of adrenaline, her heart suddenly roaring in her ears.

Hadn't he said everything he needed to say already? She thought he'd made himself quite clear. She'd gotten the message, anyway: he'd never work for Cerberus, not even for her. He questioned her motives, the choices she was making in this mission. He wasn't sure he believed her story about being dead. He was convinced there was another way to defeat the Collectors, a way without Cerberus.

He'd let her walk away with a handshake and a goodbye.

Elizabeth's throat tightened and she swallowed hard, fighting against the surge of agony that memory still brought. She couldn't really blame him, she reminded herself. He'd spent two years grieving her. Two years without her, trying to move on…

She let out a long, slow breath and reached forward slowly, opening the message with deliberate effort. It was encrypted, but he'd provided a hint for the key. _My favorite book._

Another stab of grief shot through her at the memory of the time they'd gone to visit his family in Vancouver. Everything had been so perfect then. So… _normal_. For that one glorious day she had reveled in all the imperfections of a slightly dysfunctional yet loving family. She had watched Kaidan blush and stutter adorably over her discovery of his teenage adoration of the comic heroine Space Vixen and his mother's abrupt mention of how she wanted grandbabies because she wasn't getting any younger. She had been entertained by his sister Kaylee's enthusiastic tales of life at university and playful jabs at her older brother's tech-savviness, which she had of course labeled "nerdiness". She had enjoyed real home-cooked food and real coffee, and the pleasure of small-talk over a hot meal that didn't involve battle tactics or references to explosions and paperwork needing to be filed.

All of that seemed a lifetime away now. Seemed like it had never happened at all. Just a figment of her imagination, perhaps.

She shook her head sadly, entering the answer, which she had learned that day as well: _Ender's Game_. She supposed it was some small comfort that he still remembered that visit, too.

She sat back in her chair as the decryption ran, chewing her nails absently. And then it was done, and the message opened. A voice message.

Shepard stared at it, hesitating. His voice. Could she bear to hear his voice again? It had soothed her worries on so many occasions… and yet the last time she'd heard it, it had cut through her more efficiently than any bladed weapon. She settled herself deeper in her chair, wishing Chakwas had left more of that brandy. Or maybe she needed something stronger for this. She would have to check with Mess Sergeant Gardner and see what their stock looked like.

She closed her eyes, bracing herself, and touched the key to begin playback.

"_Shepard."_

Her wall of resolve cracked at the mere sound of her name. His husky tones were ragged, and he heaved a sigh, his breath crackling the microphone. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sting welling there, the lump building in her throat.

"_I'm sorry for what I said back on Horizon."_

The wall crumbled. She had never told anyone how that conversation on Horizon had affected her; never shed one tear over it. It had all been neatly boxed up and put away, hidden beneath the layers of duty and responsibility and what-had-to-be-done-next. She hadn't allowed herself to dwell on it; what was done was done, after all.

But now, in the quiet solitude of her quarters, under the onslaught of his voice and a damned _apology_, of all things, dragged from the depths of the deep, dark corner where she had filed it, whether because of lack of sleep or the brandy or the constant stress of the last few months, she couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't keep it inside. She couldn't stop herself.

She cried. She cried like she hadn't since the Mindoir raid, but right now, at this moment, she didn't care. She let herself go. Let herself _feel _again, just for now. Let the tears pour down her face like she had nothing left, listening to his words and taking them for all they were worth.

"_Look… when things settle down a little… maybe…" _A long hesitation, followed by a noise of surrender. "_I don't know."_ Another sigh, short and painful._ "Just take care. Signed, Kaidan."_

The sobs intensified in the silence that followed the end of his message. Damn him and his maybes. Maybe what? They could go back to how things were? Forget about what was said on Horizon? Forget about the two years he'd spent mourning her death? She wasn't sure any of that was possible even if they had wanted to try it. Did she even want to try anymore? Would things ever even "settle down" to give them the chance?

Unlikely.

Damn him and his apology, his heartfelt confession, his doubts over how she felt about the night before Ilos, his worry over her involvement with Cerberus. She damn well knew Cerberus couldn't be trusted. He damn well knew exactly how she felt about that night before Ilos. Or… he should have.

And now after everything, after all his doubts and suspicions, his words on Horizon, his rant over the end never justifying the means… he gave her a maybe.

A small flame of hope. Hope that maybe, just possibly, there could be a future for them. Together.

The biotics exploded off her before she could rein them in, cracking her monitor in a shower of sparks and shattering the glass that surrounded her model ships, knocking many of them from their holders to rain down on the couch and table below.

The lights in her cabin flickered, then dimmed into red, a soft alarm chiming in time with their flashing.

Why would he do this to her? The last thing she needed right now was hope for a future, the worry over leaving him behind again as she went to meet almost certain death.

"_I just couldn't bear it if I had to lose you again…"_

Shepard stood from her chair, her tears suddenly stopped, jaw and fists clenched, still flaring an angry, writhing blue.

"Shepard," Lawson's voice came over the PA, sounding worried, "everything okay? EDI just registered a massive gravitational distortion in your quarters."

"Just fine," Elizabeth answered, voice tight and low. "Just… practicing."

"You should tell me before pulling a stunt like that! You know, if we had happened to be preparing for a jump –"

"Thank you, Lawson, I'll remember next time." She sent a closely controlled burst of gravity to the PA speaker, crushing it neatly.

She had almost forgotten what it was like to feel that shearing dread in the pit of her stomach when things got bad, that burning desire to live against all odds because there was actually someone she had wanted to return to. Almost. And now, with only a few words, Kaidan had dredged it all up again in full force.

But it was only a maybe.

Now she just had to decide if a maybe was worth it.


	18. Valediction

**A/N:** I apologize for taking so long to post this chapter... it really kicked my butt! :P But here it is at long last, whew! Theme song for this one is Hans Zimmer's "Time", from the Inception soundtrack. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Valediction**

* * *

Shepard stood, arms crossed, watching the slow pulse of light move through the blue spherical avatar hovering in the center of the table.

Opposite her, Joker sat slumped in the chair at one end of the table, his head in one hand, the other arm immobilized in a cast and sling.

An AI. A Cerberus AI. Unshackled. On her ship.

She sighed heavily.

Joker groaned, rubbing his face. "I'm sorry! Shit! I didn't know what else to do! We didn't have a chance against those things – the ship was completely unresponsive – no weapons, no thrusters – we would've gotten sliced apart again and there'd be no ship _or_ crew for you to come back to! I mean, shit, look at me!" He gestured to his injured arm. "I didn't even _do_ anything and I fractured a fucking bone! A person might think I actually put some effort in, but noooo, all I did was fall on my goddamn ass when the _Normandy_ accelerated." He dropped his head back into his hand.

"That is not entirely accurate, Jeff," EDI spoke up, and Shepard lifted an eyebrow at the use of the pilot's first name. "If you had not managed to evade capture, you would not have been able to allow me to control the _Normandy_. If I had not been able to control the ship, it would have remained unresponsive. The Collectors would have taken you and likely destroyed the _Normandy_. We would not be having this conversation."

Joker scowled. "Thanks mom."

"She's right," Shepard said finally. "You did the right thing, Joker."

The pilot parted two fingers wide enough to peek up at her doubtfully. "Yeah? Well it doesn't fucking feel like it."

Shepard shrugged. "You saved the ship. You purged the system. The Reaper IFF is online. You kept the mission alive, Joker. That's what matters. We still have the chance to go through the Omega 4 relay and get the bastards, and in the meantime save the crew that was abducted."

Joker sat back in his chair. "You think they're still alive?"

Shepard felt a sickening twist of her stomach, remembering what they'd seen aboard the Collector vessel. "Maybe not for long, but I don't plan on waiting around."

Joker made a point of looking around the empty briefing room. "Commander… half the squad you specifically recruited for this mission is gone. So is everyone who operates the ship. There's like… six of us. You really think we can take on whatever the hell is through the Omega 4 relay all by ourselves?"

"I don't see how we have much of a choice."

His mouth opened for a second, and then his uninjured arm flung out in exasperation. "Oh, fantastic. Well that makes me feel much better."

"I am fully capable of operating the ship myself, Jeff," EDI spoke up. "Other than taking the helm, of course."

Joker's angry retort died on his lips.

"That's right," Shepard agreed. "EDI can monitor and adjust the rest of the _Normandy_'s systems. You focus on what you do best. Once we find out where the Collectors are specifically coming from, I'll take everyone left and hit them with all we've got."

Joker shook his head. "Which… isn't much."

"We've still got Jack," she offered wryly.

Joker grunted. "You shoulda left her here. I bet she could've taken every single one of those four-eyed bastards down herself."

"And probably torn the ship in half as well."

"I'd put money on it."

Shepard sighed again, looking back to EDI. The faceless blue ball stared back, silent and unchanging. She couldn't even tell it had been unshackled, except for maybe the change in how it addressed Joker.

The man followed her gaze and shifted in his chair, clearing his throat. "EDI cleared the ship and didn't vent me along with the trash. She gave control back as soon as we were clear of danger. She's all right."

Shepard felt her face contort into something between painful admission and honest confusion. "I know," she said slowly, reluctantly. "She's had plenty of opportunity to kill us already and she hasn't. So… I guess that counts for something."

"I assure you, I am still bound by protocols in my programming," EDI said matter-of-factly. "Even if I were not, you are my crewmates."

Elizabeth's eyebrow inched upward again. She swore she'd heard special emphasis on the word "crewmates". Something that sounded almost like fondness, even. She grunted. "Well, that's nice. We're going to need all the help we can get on this mission. We'll sort out the whole unshackled AI business later."

"Just be sure Lawson knows that, would you?" Joker pleaded as Shepard made for the exit. "She already hates me and I'm sure this incident hasn't earned me any brownie points. I'd prefer she not asphyxiate me in my sleep."

Shepard turned back to face him, crossing her arms. "Well you _did _antagonize her when she first came aboard."

Joker's eyes widened. "Because she treated you like – I mean she treated all of us like – because she was a controlling, manipulative bitch! Remember? I'm pretty sure you used to agree with me… when did you switch sides?"

Shepard smiled with weary amusement. "We're all on the same side now, Joker. We have to be if we're going to make it through this. But don't worry, I'll just remind her that we have an active geth on board and I'm sure she'll forget all about what you did with EDI."

Joker sank down into his chair again, groaning. "Oh yes, I'm feeling better and better about this trip with every passing minute!"

Elizabeth vaguely wished she could identify with him, but she had gone strangely numb. She felt nothing at all about going through the Omega 4 relay; there was just a firm, steady notion that it must be done, that the Collectors must be stopped, that the _Normandy_ crew must be rescued.

That's all there was to it.

"Prep the ship to go through the Omega relay," she said. "I'll notify everyone who's left. We'll be leaving shortly. If there's anyone you want to contact beforehand, you should do it now. We may not be coming back." She paused a moment, then said, "I'll make sure Miranda gives everyone clearance."

Joker looked at her for a long moment, then swallowed visibly. He nodded once. "Aye aye, Commander."

* * *

Elizabeth sat again at her desk, staring at that message title still glowing on her terminal screen as she had already so many times before, her finger hovering over the "reply" key. Kaidan's words, his voice, were still so vivid in her memory. She must have listened to his message a hundred times in the two weeks since she'd received it, and she wasn't sure why she kept torturing herself with it. She had agonized over it in the dark hours before morning more nights than she wished to remember, desperately digging for something more concrete. Something more than a maybe. Even if it was an end… at least it was an end.

But Kaidan was too good, too practiced, at leaving himself a way out.

She had worked so hard to get him to stop doing that. Two years was apparently plenty of time for old habits to resurface.

Part of her didn't want to reply at all. He was trying to move on… shouldn't she let him? He'd said he couldn't bear to lose her again, but he'd lived through it once. He hadn't objected when she'd left Horizon. And how could you grieve for the loss of a person you claimed you didn't really know anymore, anyway?

Such thoughts just made her angry and Shepard closed her eyes, taking a few long, deep breaths. It did no good to be angry. At least, not about this. Angry at the Collectors for what they'd done to human colonies, for what they'd done to her crew, yes. That was useful. But this… this was just a distraction, and one that needed to be taken care of before she took the _Normandy_ through the Omega relay. That's why she had to reply. She had to say… _something_. Because if she didn't it would haunt her for the rest of the mission. And if she was going to die facing down the Collectors, then at the very least she didn't want to die without having said goodbye. They hadn't gotten to say goodbye last time. This time could be different.

She could give him that much. He deserved that much.

Shepard straightened in her chair, her decision finally made, and pressed the button.

* * *

Kaidan Alenko stood in the sparse living room of his standard-issue military housing, duffel bag still in hand, staring out at the lights and movements and chaos of the Wards, and thought he'd never been so happy to be back on the Citadel.

No humidity, no bovine-sized insects, no poorly ventilated pre-fab units, no desperate and half-panicked colonists coming to him for every problem economic, political, physical and technical, no paralytic swarms, no four-eyed chitinous aliens…

He shuddered involuntarily, then sighed, dropping the duffel to the floor. It didn't matter. It was over. He was done with Horizon, once and for all. His superiors had tripped all over themselves in praise of how well he'd done there, how expertly and efficiently he'd handled the situation, how calmly and compassionately he'd helped the once-hostile-and-now-very-friendly colonists. Kaidan had accepted their compliments almost wordlessly, trying to be polite and professional but knowing he hadn't really done much compared to Shepard.

If not for her, if she hadn't come when she had… if she hadn't of shared Dr. Solus' work on the stasis generators…

The outcome of the Collector attack on Horizon would have been very different.

He swallowed hard, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, his fingers brushing the small raised scar left behind by his crude extraction of the tiny Collector device. Two weeks. Two weeks since he'd sent her that message, and still no response. Maybe she'd never even received it. Maybe she had, and she just didn't care anymore.

He paced over to the apartment's kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. His omni-tool beeped and he reflexively cringed. He already knew who it was.

Rachel. She wanted to see him again. And part of him desperately wanted to see her, too. A civilian. A person with a normal life. No entanglements with a terrorist organization, no possibility of having been brought back from the dead. No classified assignments, no risk of death every morning when going to work.

Normalcy.

Kaidan blew out a breath, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. He chugged his glass of water.

Why had he even bothered telling Rachel he was going to Horizon in the first place? Why had he called her as soon as he'd arrived back in the Widow Nebula? He was really just leading her on… wasn't he? Why hadn't he returned her calls since and agreed to see her, already?

What the hell was he _doing_?

Shepard was gone to who knew where. She would keep marching right into the fire and no one could stop her, he knew this without doubt. She would always be putting herself in harm's way, taking jobs with the highest risks, sticking her neck out for people who didn't always deserve it, because she was the best. She got things done.

He couldn't be so selfish as to demand she always stay safe. And yet… he'd spoken the truth in his message to her. He couldn't handle losing her again. Even now just the thought brought up that incessant buzzing in the back of his skull. He almost hoped she wouldn't reply. He probably didn't need a reason to fall completely head over heels for her again. Even after two years, the shreds of emotion he still had left were strong enough to illicit migraines. If he allowed himself to go all-in again…

Kaidan's omni-tool beeped a second time. He shook his head.

Maybe Horizon had been the end.

Maybe he'd been wrong in hoping for anything else, in even trying to contact her again.

_Always leave yourself a way out._

That had never worked so well with Shepard.

His omni-tool beeped a third time and Kaidan rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from the kitchen counter to stalk back into the living room. He brought up the holographic interface and touched the comm icon to play his queued messages.

"You have two new messages, Commander Alenko," a pleasant female VI informed him. "First message: received today at fourteen twenty hours Galatic Standard Time. Received from Dr. Rachel Colette, xenocardiologist, Huerta Medical Center, Citadel. Beginning message playback." Rachel's familiar voice filled the space of the small apartment as Kaidan stooped to pick up his duffel bag and moved into the bedroom, tossing it to the bed.

He began unpacking his very limited belongings as he listened. She said all the things he had expected her to say: she missed him, she'd worried about him when she'd heard the news of the attack on Horizon, she was relieved he was okay and happy he was back, and would he be up for a late dinner tonight when she got off work? Kaidan thought he just might be up for that, indeed, as he placed his perfectly folded clothes in the dresser drawers.

Maybe he could take a stab at normal for once… maybe he could actually make it work…

"Second message," the VI said cheerfully, "received at fourteen twenty-three hours Galactic Standard Time. Received from Elizabeth Shepard, Spectre, affiliation and location classified. Beginning message playback."

Kaidan froze, his corona shimmering briefly as adrenaline shot through his body. He dropped the clothes in his hands and brought up his omni-tool, activating the screen. His breath caught in his chest as a small, square image of Elizabeth wavered to life above his forearm, staring him right in the face.

"Kaidan," she said softly, and his throat closed up. She looked terrible and sounded worse. Her face was thinner than he remembered and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her voice was rough, weary, resigned. "I got your message… and to be perfectly honest, I'm not really sure what to make of it." She paused, rubbing her eyes with one hand. "I know this has been hard for you, Kaidan, and that it's been a long time for you… and I'm trying to remember that. But I hope you can also remember that for me, the _Normandy_ went down only a few months ago. I… you…_ us_… that was only a few months ago for me. I don't remember dying, Kaidan. I don't remember any of it. All I know is one minute I ordered the abandon ship and the next I woke up and it was two years later and everyone I knew thought I was dead." She sighed heavily, her green eyes dropping down to stare into her lap. "I don't know if you believe me now any more than you did on Horizon." She looked back up at the screen, her bright gaze boring into him. "But I have always been honest with you Kaidan, and now is no exception. Horizon was no exception, either."

Her hand shot up to swipe quickly at her cheek and Kaidan fought hard against the guilt rising in his chest.

"The Collectors ambushed us," she said abruptly, and the sudden change of subject made him blink. "They took almost everyone and almost took the _SR-2_ as well. We don't have many people left, but we have what we need to make it through the Omega 4 relay, and we're going through. I'm going to stop the Collectors, Kaidan. Whatever it takes." She leaned closer to the screen. "So I'm going to be honest with you again. We probably won't be coming back." She swallowed visibly. "This is goodbye, Kaidan."

He opened his mouth instinctively to protest before remembering it was a recorded transmission. His hands clenched into fists.

"This is the end," she continued softly. "And I couldn't let it end like last time, so I had to at least say goodbye. You keep moving on, Kaidan. You keep healing and… get past me. I can't promise that I'll stay alive and I'm not in the habit of making promises I can't keep. You don't deserve to have to go through that grief all over again. So… this is it." Her fingers reached out as if to touch the screen but then stopped midway, dropping back down to her lap. She hesitated, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

"I love you, Kaidan," she whispered, and then she was gone.

Kaidan stood rigid, unmoving, staring at the glowing orange interface encasing his arm until his eyes burned.

"End of messages, Commander," the VI announced, but he'd stopped listening.

"_I love you, Kaidan."_

His face and eyes were stinging, his ears roaring. The buzz in his head grew louder, tracers shooting across his vision, splintering the view of his omni-tool's screen, which was now displaying the list of messages in his inbox. He closed down the interface, dropping his arm woodenly back to his side.

_The end._

His whole body hummed. Would it have been better if it had ended with her death over Alchera, without this rift of time and loyalties between them? With his anguish and grief and guilt but ultimately, the time to let it fade, to let it heal? He had been so goddamned close to being able to live with himself, and now… this.

He felt his biotics building, the dark energy gathering as his adrenaline and pounding heart fueled the eezo nodes in his nervous system. There was a crackling in his ears and a prickling along his arms he hadn't felt since –

_No. No no no no control control control… _

She was alive. Breathing. Touchable. So close and yet… so very far away. Out of reach. And somehow that seemed worse than living with her ghost.

_The end._

The cry tore from his throat as his world exploded in a blaze of white, his neurons firing with more power than they had in eighteen years, a violent biotic discharge blasting away from him in a massive gravitational shockwave. And then he was on his hands and knees on the floor, his eyes squeezed shut against the agony stabbing through his skull, surrounded by shattered glass and fallen pointless abstract artwork and the flickering of shorted-out lights. Dust from the ceiling powdered his hair.

This was it, he realized vaguely somewhere beneath the pain that racked his head and the nausea pushing up his throat. This was what it felt like to snap. To go crazy, to go mad, to become one of _those_ L2s.

And it had nothing to do with his implant.

All it took was losing the love of his life. Twice.


	19. Oblivion

**A/N:** Theme song for this chapter is "Aura" by Thomas Bergersen. Hope you enjoy! And thanks so much again to everyone for reading and reviewing!

* * *

**Oblivion**

* * *

Shepard laid down more cover fire, squeezing the trigger in short, controlled bursts. The flashing red numbers on the side of her clip were getting dangerously low. She ducked back down behind her cover as the Collector drones fired back, sparing a glance over her shoulder to where Tali worked on overloading the station's power core.

"How you doing, Tali?" she shouted into the comms.

"Almost there, Shepard," the quarian quipped, her gloved fingers flying over the holographic interface.

Shepard popped up over the bulkhead she crouched behind and sent another volley of rounds into the drone to her right, shredding it into ash. She signaled up to Garrus to fire a concussive shot at the body Harbinger was currently possessing.

To her left, Jack let loose a roar of rage and stood from her cover, flinging a rippling blue wall of biotics at the glowing Collector, making it stagger. Garrus' concussive round hit it at the same time and it exploded in a mess of chitinous parts. "_Just die already you bug-eyed sonuvabitch_!" Jack yelled.

Shepard suddenly noticed Thane had snuck around to flank the attacking Collectors, taking them out one by one in his deadly efficient and quiet manner. His element of surprise didn't last long, but the Collectors couldn't all fire in the same direction all at once anymore, taking some pressure off the rest of the team.

Good thing, too. She was almost out of ammo and running low on thermal clips, and the waves of enemies just kept coming. The mission so far had gone far better than she ever could have hoped. Injuries had been sustained but as of yet everyone had stayed alive. The colonists and her crew had been found, and while it had been too late to save the colonists, every one of her crew had survived and made it back to the ship. They had destroyed the human-Reaper abomination and gotten this far… they were so close to their goal….

And completely pinned down.

The Collectors and their accompanying host of husks had driven Shepard and her team back onto the platforms that had once resided beneath the human-Reaper construct; the control terminals scattered around them now all flashed with what looked like a warning icon, presumably because the project they had monitored had been sent crashing down into the abyss beyond.

That abyss was proving to be a problem. It left them no retreat. The platforms they were trapped on did not appear to be able to fly. The only way out was forward, and Harbinger seemed to be throwing everything it had at them now that they had demonstrated a real and true threat to its operations.

Shepard ground her teeth as she heard the hissing growls of more oncoming husks. She peeked above her cover and counted swiftly. Twenty. Five scions behind them. More Collectors flying in – roughly fifteen. She glanced down to her rifle.

Twenty-three.

_Fuck._

She fished around in her belt pouches. One flask of energy drink left. Not enough to let her use her biotics the whole way out. Not if resistance remained this heavy all the way back to the _Normandy_. At least, not unless she wanted the others to have to carry her out.

Another yell from Jack preceded another wash of dark energy that sent half the lumbering husks skittering away like paper in a strong wind. Well, she did have Jack. And Thane. Both also biotics. Between the three of them, maybe they could –

"Got it!" Tali announced triumphantly. "Core overload in ten minutes, Commander!"

Ten minutes. It couldn't have been twenty? She keyed her comm to all channels, not wasting time on wishful thinking. "_Normandy_, Fire Team, heads up. Core overload is set, time to detonation ten minutes. Lawson, get your team out. Joker, what's the _Normandy_'s status?"

"Nowhere near one hundred percent, Commander, but she'll fly. We're ready when you are."

"Roger that, we're inbound." She biotically threw a scion off the edge of the platform, took out two husks with another burst from her rifle. "How long for_ Normandy_ to reach minimum safe distance?"

EDI chimed in before Joker could give her a best guess. "Given the size of the station and its power outputs, Commander, my calculations estimate the _Normandy _needs at least two minutes to reach minimum safe distance."

"Fine," she acknowledged. Garrus took out another scion, Thane three more husks, Jack two Collectors. "If we're not back to the ship in eight minutes, you leave without us."

"Yeah, that's not happening, Commander," Joker immediately shot back.

Shepard made a mental note to thrash the man if she lived to see him again. "That's an _order_, Moreau," she barked with all the authority she could muster. "EDI, I'm giving you authorization to take over helm controls at t-minus two minutes, understand?"

"_What_?" Jeff squawked.

"Understood, Commander," EDI replied smoothly.

Shepard cut off Joker's channel as he began to protest, switching over to Miranda. "Lawson, confirm retreat."

"On our way out, Commander," the woman acknowledged, sounding breathless. The chatter of weapons fire and unmistakable colorful cursing of the mercenary Zaeed carried over in the background, followed by a bellow from Grunt.

"Let me know when you reach the ship," Shepard ordered, and then switched back to her party channel after Lawson had again confirmed. "Okay people, time for us –"

Something huge and mechanical slammed into the ground only yards from her position, making the floor beneath her feet shudder and knocking her off-balance from her crouch. She twisted to face the new threat even as she fell back onto her rear, bringing her rifle to bear. She struggled to get her feet under her, staring at four long, hinged digits lying across the platform deck. She squinted, thinking they looked vaguely, eerily familiar.

Another crash from the other side and Shepard whirled to see four more of the same structure, clinging to the rounded edge as Jack staggered away with a virulent curse, cradling her right arm across her stomach. Shepard saw a flash of splintered white, the brilliant red of blood against the canvas of tattoos.

Shit.

"Shepard look out!" Garrus called in her ear, and then a gleaming humanoid skull rose from the abyss with a motorized shriek, its three red eyes glowing hotly.

_Shit._

"Bosh'tet!" Tali blurted, scrambling to find cover somewhere between the awakened Reaper larvae and the wall of enemies still shooting at them from the other side. Shepard stared just one second too long and enemy rounds hissed against her shields.

"Shepard, _down_!" Thane's voice came from her left, but before she could react he was there, tossing her to the deck as easily as if she were a child. She hit on one shoulder and rolled, coming up on one knee only to see the drell go down under at least five husks. She surged back to her feet and ran at them, bashing at their dark and twisted bodies with the butt of her rifle. Gore painted her visor and the front of her armor.

She was vaguely aware of the periodic boom of Garrus' sniper rifle, the flitting red sphere that was Tali's drone, the continuous swearing of Jack punctuated by crackling blue waves of biotics.

"The Reaper is firing!" Tali barked. "Watch out!"

Thane kicked the last husk off and Shepard brought her rifle hard across its face, dropping it to the ground, then stomped in its soft skull for good measure. Enemy fire still lit up her shields. Her HUD flashed in warning: shield failure imminent.

A blinding red glow caught in her peripheral vision and she realized abstractedly it must be the Reaper. She remembered Sovereign's bright red beam and how it had sliced through everything as quickly and easily as if their frigates had been made of butter.

She helped Thane to his feet and they both ducked down behind a terminal, taking shelter from Collector fire. But nothing would save them from that beam. And there was nowhere to run.

Shepard leaned her helmeted head back against the podium, breathing hard. She glanced down to her rifle. Eight. One more burst.

"Target the power core in the chest!" Tali said over the comms. "It has very weak shielding – probably because it's not a completed model –"

The crack of Garrus' rifle cut off her words, and pink lightning danced out from the large red light in the Reaper's chest as the round hit. The abomination recoiled slightly, then opened its jaws to fire again.

Shepard emptied her clip into its power core, then tossed her rifle and leaned around her cover to biotically pull one of the discarded Collector weapons within her reach. She scooped it up and wasted no time in firing again. Beside her, Thane echoed her actions.

The Reaper's laser strafed the platform around them, leaving deep, orange-hot scores in its wake.

The Collector drones and scions and husks still pressed from the other side.

The countdown in her HUD reached eight minutes.

A cold, heavy calm settled over her, quieting her breathing, slowing her racing heart. She had never planned to come back from this, anyway. She had said her goodbyes, sent her encrypted data packet with all gathered mission objectives and related information to a trusted source in order to ensure other qualified individuals would have a chance to defeat the Collectors if she somehow failed.

But she wasn't going to fail.

They were going to end this. Right now.

She sprang from her cover, braced herself, and fired the Collector particle beam straight into the human-Reaper's heart.

The creature shrieked again, flailing.

Her shields lit up with Collector fire, power swiftly draining.

"Someone help me cover Shepard!" Garrus called through the comms, and the team's focus abruptly shifted, giving her a precious few more seconds…

The hot red beam came at her again and she dodged forward, refusing to let up on the trigger. She was right on top of it now, looking at her reflection in its shiny skeletal frame. There was scorching heat, a pop, and then the Reaper's power source exploded with a deafening boom, and she found herself flying. She hit the ground hard and rolled, slamming into a bulkhead with a grunt, ears ringing. Her shields fizzled out. Her rifle was gone.

The sound of metal scraping metal made her skin crawl. Shepard pushed herself up onto her hands and knees only to see the Reaper scrabbling weakly for a hold on the platform, but to no avail. It slipped off at last, once again plunging into the depths of the abyss.

Jack had no sooner given a whoop of triumph when a sharp crack echoed through the chamber. Shepard felt her stomach heave as the floor beneath her feet shifted, tilting dangerously. She realized immediately what was happening and gestured wildly back toward where the Collectors and husks and scions still doggedly advanced. "Everyone off the platforms!" she screamed. "_Now_! Go go go!"

She saw Tali and Thane dart nimbly ahead of her, followed considerably more slowly by Jack, still clutching her broken arm and leaving a trail of blood. Garrus was in no real danger, having taken a perch high along the far wall, but she could just barely make out his blue-armored form scrambling down toward her.

She turned to bolt after them, and then there was nothing beneath her feet.

"_Shepard!_"

The world spun away from her with dizzying speed, her hands outstretched and floundering with nothing to catch onto. She fell, down and down and down, and wondered if this was what dying had been like the first time.

* * *

Kaidan startled at the touch on his hand, glancing up and blinking.

"Are you okay?" Rachel smiled gently at him, her fingers curling around his. After so many years of throwing everything he had into work, the benign contact felt strange and foreign. Even before Alchera, Shepard had been the only to –

_Stop._

He cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said, but his voice was still hoarse. He shifted in his chair at her dubious look. "I'm just… I'm just tired. It's been a long few months." At least that much was true. He carefully pulled his fingers from her grip and rubbed at his eyes.

"That's one way to put it," Rachel agreed. She sat back in her chair, her auburn hair shifting over her shoulders as she tilted her head to one side. Her blue eyes studied him. "Maybe we should postpone our dinner? You should probably take some time to rest – "

He shook his head. "No. No, it's fine. I wanted to get out and about anyway. Been away too long." _Also, I destroyed my apartment._ "We've already ordered. Plus… I'd really like some real food."

Her smile returned, and not for the first time Kaidan was struck by just how gorgeous she really was. And nice. And witty. And interesting. And… he couldn't stop comparing her to Shepard.

She seemed more relaxed than Shepard had ever been in a public restaurant, of course. Her smile and her laugh came easier, more often. Her fingers were longer and more delicate, and she actually had nails not torn down to the skin. Her evening wear accentuated her figure without revealing too much. The one time he'd seen Shepard in evening wear, the N7 and Spectre had looked distinctly uncomfortable.

The comparisons came instantly, unconsciously. Every move Rachel Colette made either reminded him of something Shepard did or was the polar opposite. Kaidan tried to stop himself, but it was nearly impossible. Shepard was out there risking her life right now, and here he was having a nice leisurely meal. Safe and sound. With another woman.

He swallowed hard, reaching for his glass of wine. He wasn't usually one for drinking, but tonight he wanted nothing more than to drink himself into oblivion. Drink himself into forgetting. Just for a few hours… to be free of the guilt, the nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach that insisted there was something more he could have done, something more he could have said…

But no. He'd given it all he had on Horizon, and in his message to her. He had nothing left to say to her. If she still thought Cerberus was really the only answer for the Collector mess, even after all the organization had done in the past, even after all his warnings, well… she wasn't really the Elizabeth Shepard he'd thought he'd known, anyway.

He poured himself more wine. Rachel cocked an eyebrow.

"It's a good year," he offered.

She lifted her own glass to take a sip, reflected for a moment, then swallowed and nodded. "It _is_ good."

He poured a little more into her glass before setting the bottle down. Pain still lingered behind his eyes, still crawled up into his skull from his implant. His nerves still hummed, tension singing through his shoulders. Gods, this wine wasn't going to get him there fast enough. He needed something stronger.

_Keep it together, Alenko._ He had nothing to feel guilty about. He had tried to warn her. He had tried to help her see other options. She knew he couldn't just up and leave his posting. How could she have even had the nerve to ask? Had she really _expected_ that from him, after two years of nothing? And after showing up with _Cerberus_?

_Not the Elizabeth I knew._

She had said herself it was over. She couldn't promise she wouldn't die. He didn't deserve the grief. He couldn't go through that again.

He was allowed to have dinner with a nice woman. He needed to. He needed to move on… away from the guilt, the doubts, the claustrophobic terror that still gripped him every time he thought of Shepard's broken body being found somewhere at the far rim of the galaxy…

"So," he said, forcing his mouth to move, forcing the words past the mass in his chest. "What did I miss? Anything interesting happen in my absence?"

Rachel's face immediately brightened. She loved gossip.

Shepard had despised it.

_Stop._

"Oh there is _always_ some crazy thing or another happening on the Citadel, you know that."

He leaned his elbows on the table. Something solid. Something to ground him. "Anything that's actually relevant or important?"

She gave another little laugh, light and airy. He wondered what it would be like to laugh so easily.

"That depends on what you consider relevant or important!" She took another sip of wine, brushing her hair over her shoulder. "Mostly it was just the usual, you know…. Shi'ala had another love-struck stalker break into her facility, a couple of bar fights at the _Dark Star_, paparazzi falling all over themselves for some tabloid pics of the new Blasto stars…"

Kaidan let the words wash over him, welcoming the numbingly mundane details. Maybe with enough talk, enough words, mixed with enough drink, he could become numb again.

* * *

Dark. Cold. Pain.

_Breathe, damnit._

She couldn't. There was burning in her chest, fire in her ribs, white and red in her eyes.

She was beneath the rubble of the Citadel Tower, trapped, helpless. Listening to Kaidan call her name over and over, unable to reply.

_Come on, Shepard, don't quit on us now._

There was an explosion, noiseless and lacking heat, viewed through her visor and her hardsuit, propelling her away from the escape pod, sending her tumbling out into black and empty space. So alone, so small, so insignificant, drifting soundlessly beneath the ruins of her ship, feeling each breath grow thinner and thinner, feeling cheated. No time to say goodbye.

_Damn it, Shepard, wake up!_

An icy cold knife plunged into the back of her skull and she gasped, then choked on copper-tasting liquid in her mouth, wincing as hooks of agony ran up and down her spine. The cry wrenched from her throat and then she was on her side, spitting blood into the orange dirt.

"That's it, Shepard," a melodic voice said gently. "Breathe. Careful now, take it easy."

Samara. Wait, _Samara_?

Shepard's eyes snapped open as her reality finally closed in around her, but then she cringed away from the light, blinking rapidly, squinting up at the multiple silhouettes crouching around her. "You…" she rasped, then coughed and cried out as her ribs violently protested breathing. Broken. Had to be. "The _Normandy_," she spat between clenched teeth, forcing herself to focus on the small numbers in her HUD.

T-minus one minute and forty-eight seconds.

She wasn't dead.

They weren't gone.

The rage boiled through her blood and gave her the strength to push to her hands and knees, ignoring the wash of agony that pulsed through every muscle, every bone, every nerve. "Goddammit," she snarled, "I told you to –"

"Right here, Commander," Joker's voice came through her comm, loud and clear, and she turned her head to see the _Normandy_ fill a gaping hole in the station's wall. She blinked again as the airlock door slid open, revealing Joker himself, fully outfitted in a pressurized suit and cradling an assault rifle.

She had never seen Joker with a gun.

That's when she realized they were still being shot at, that part of her team was still missing. That the people around her were her Fire Team, and were supposed to have been aboard the _Normandy_ a long time ago.

Miranda and Samara helped her to her feet. She tried to shake them off, to yell at them again for failing to follow direct orders, but her voice was swallowed with the pain of merely standing. She squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her jaw, gathered all that was left of her willpower. "No one left behind," she finally growled.

The two women looked at each other, then glanced down the tunnel that Zaeed and Grunt were holding with no lack of testosterone-driven war cries. The boom of a grenade echoed back from the other end of the corridor, and soon Kasumi Goto darted between the krogan and mercenary, shimmering as she de-cloaked.

"Get off me you frog-faced lizard-lips!" Jack's rough voice shouted from the depths somewhere behind Kasumi. "I don't need your help!"

"Best be getting aboard the ship," Goto called as she sprinted past them, then vaulted herself through the hole in the wall to land gracefully inside the airlock.

Shepard felt a relief so strong it actually weakened her knees as Garrus came tearing from the tunnel, pausing to turn and shoot behind him every now and then, waving a taloned hand at her and those who still supported her. "What are you waiting for?" he shouted. "Get to the damn ship! The swarms are coming!"

Miranda and Samara started to steer her toward the opening in the wall, but Shepard resisted, shaking her head once before the bloom of a ferocious headache stopped her. "Jack and Thane," she said thickly.

"Krios is dying anyway," Miranda quipped, "and good riddance to Jack. Let's go!"

Shepard planted her feet.

One minute and fifteen seconds.

"Damn it, Shepard!"

She looked into Samara's clear, cold eyes. "Go help Thane."

The asari nodded wordlessly, releasing her hold on Shepard's arm and running back toward the endless tirade of cursing. Zaeed and Grunt were falling back, still spraying cover fire where they could, obviously trying to avoid shooting the friendlies that were clearly in the way.

Shepard found herself impressed at Zaeed's restraint. He had no real investment in this mission, after all, other than the hard cash he was getting paid, which he'd get paid regardless of if everyone made it out alive or not. She briefly wished again that he'd been able to get to Vido. If they lived, she would promise to help him find the man again. It was the least she could do after this.

One minute and eight seconds.

"Come on, people, move it!" Joker pleaded from behind her.

"Thirty seconds until improved minimum safe distance time is reached," EDI said calmly through the comms.

"Yes, thank you EDI," Joker snapped, not sounding grateful at all.

Shepard remained oblivious to Miranda's increasingly-urgent pulls on her arm, keeping her gaze fixed on the mouth of the tunnel. No one left behind.

Zaeed and Grunt finally ceased fire, turning to run as a cloud of seekers poured out around them.

"Shit," Miranda hissed, throwing up a barrier.

Shepard blinked as the rippling blue field engulfed her; suddenly glad for the other woman's biotics. Just the thought of firing up her neurons made her headache flare something terrible. She noticed holes in her vision and squinted, turning her head slightly from side to side. Was this a migraine? Was this what Kaidan went through every time? Holy hell, she didn't know how he did it….

Garrus was suddenly there, swinging her up over his shoulder. She shouted with both pain and anger, beating a fist against his armored back even through the blinding agony that coursed over her in waves.

"Sorry Shepard," he murmured, barely audible above the chaos.

She instinctively clutched onto him as he jumped, catching a terrifying view of the black hole looming below before the_ Normandy_ swallowed them up, landing with a jar that sent her abruptly into blackness.


	20. Necessity

**Necessity**

* * *

"…_no reason to worry so much, Doctor. Shepard has the strength of a krogan! She'll pull through, just you wait. A little fall won't take down the warrior who stared a thresher maw right in the mouth!"_

"…_you wouldn't let me take the easy way out, Shepard, no way in fuck I'm lettin' you! Besides, if you're not around, who's gonna let me blow shit up?"_

"…_Kalahira, Mistress of the dusk and the dawn, light the beacon and upkeep the fire, the flame high and bright, and guide this traveler out of the roaring dark of despair…"_

She drifted in a gray fog, somewhere between consciousness and dreaming, awash in a haze of pain. Sometimes there was only silence and nothingness. Sometimes her mind played out the events of her life and she watched them like a movie, a helpless bystander; a witness to every wrong decision, every mistake, every loss, every victory, every triumph. Other times she heard voices, coming in and out. She knew she knew them, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't recall their names or faces.

"_Come on, Shepard. I brought you back to life once… don't think I won't do it again. I'll have to send in a requisition for a new lab, of course, and funding might be more of an issue this time around, but…"_

"… _so, uh, you can wake up any day now, Shepard, really. The Illusive Man is starting to get on my nerves. He calls almost every day, asking about you. Asking about what the hell happened on that last mission. I've pretended to lose connection a few times, and Lawson's been trying her best to hold him off, but… we need you back, Shepard."_

"_Things weren't the same without you, Shepard. Sure, I did some good on Omega, but…. Well. It's just good to be a part of a team again. Your team. Only thing is… there's no team without _you_. So, get it together, soldier. We're counting on you."_

She drifted for an indeterminate amount of time, alone in her cocoon of nothing. Gradually she became aware of herself again, began to recognize the spatial shape of her body. She lay on her back, her limbs straight and formal along her sides, her face staring upward. She remembered being in this position before. More than once.

Always here, in pain, waiting. Waiting to heal. Waiting to live. Waiting to die.

Sometimes, there was someone else waiting with her. She could hardly remember his touch anymore. The feel of his hand on hers, the rough callouses of his palms, the warmth of his skin. They had used to touch so often. Small gestures, subtle looks. And other times, those rare instances when they were alone, not so small or subtle.

She almost smiled.

She missed that touch. She missed _him_. She could almost see him now… hunched on a stool next to the bed, holding her hand, his dark eyes ever watchful. And somehow, despite being there for longer than any human being should spend hunched on a stool, his uniform was always crisp, his boots always polished to a high shine, his hair always perfectly groomed. And her favorite part… that sigh of relief he always tried to mask, that toothy grin when at last she would open her eyes…

There was a touch on her hand now, gentle and comforting. She opened her eyes abruptly, blinking.

The greenish blob at her bedside shifted, the touch against her hand vanishing. "Shepard!"

She squinted, her mind slowly coming back from somewhere very far away. "Kaidan?" she croaked.

"Er… no."

No. The voice was wrong…

"Not unless the commander has grown hardened skin plates, fringe, and… oh, what does Joker call them? Ah yes, _mandibles_. Hrm. Perhaps you hit your head harder than we thought."

She blinked again, the figure at her bedside finally coming into sharper focus. Blue facial paint, flaring mandibles, scarred right cheek. She frowned, highly embarrassed. "Garrus," she offered weakly. "Sorry. I was… I couldn't… I mean I didn't…"

He chuckled. "Disorientation is to be expected, Shepard. I won't tell anyone you couldn't tell the difference between a human and a turian."

"Thanks."

The door whooshed open softly and Garrus turned to greet the newcomer. "She's awake, Doctor."

Chakwas soon appeared on Shepard's other side, checking vitals on her omni-tool. "Well, it's about time, Commander!"

Shepard very slowly and carefully turned her head to look up at the gray-haired woman. She licked dry lips and took a careful breath, wincing at the pull on her ribs. "How long was I out?"

"Fifteen days," Chakwas replied, not looking up from her read-outs.

Elizabeth winced. Too long. Far too long to be lying here doing nothing. She flexed her fingers experimentally. Her whole body felt battered and bruised, but everything seemed to be present and functional. "The Collector base?" she asked.

"Completely destroyed," Garrus said. "And we made it back through the relay in one piece."

Shepard remembered Joker's refusal to leave without her team, the Fire Team's delay in getting aboard themselves, and the sudden wash of anger made the steady beep of the heart monitor jump. Chakwas glanced down to her, one eyebrow lifted.

"The crew?" Her voice was rough. "Did everyone make it out?"

Garrus gave a firm nod. "Yes. It was close… very close, but yes."

She exhaled in relief, then grimaced as pain lanced through her ribcage. "Jack and Thane too?"

"Yes. Good idea, sending Samara. She's the only one who could match Jack in biotic strength… and Jack was bound and determined to die "blowing shit up", as she put it."

Chakwas grunted. "We're lucky she didn't blow up the ship. She wasn't very happy with you, Shepard. I guess she took the whole "suicide mission" label rather seriously. When she found out you dragged her out of there to live to fight another day, and then were lying in the med-bay half-dead yourself, well… I'm not sure if you could hear anything in that coma of yours, but she delivered some pretty blistering lectures at your bedside." The doctor shut down her omni-tool, moving across the room to retrieve a hyposyringe. "I'm sure EDI can dredge up the audio files if you want to take a listen."

Shepard groaned. "Maybe later."

"Maybe you should have let her die blowing shit up," Garrus suggested.

Shepard gave one very careful shake of her head. "No. She'll be fine. Just needs an outlet."

"Well, we'd better find her one soon," Chakwas said, injecting the contents of the syringe into Shepard's thigh. "She's pacing like a tiger in a circus cage."

"I'll take care of her."

"Not today you won't," Chakwas warned. "In fact you won't be taking care of anything for a while yet, Commander. You're still a long way from healed."

"Doesn't matter," Shepard said, attempting to sit. Both Chakwas and Garrus moved as if to stop her, but their actions were completely unnecessary. She fell back to the mattress with a cry before either had touched her. "_Damn it_," she hissed.

"Someday you'll learn to listen to me," Chakwas muttered. "You may not have hit solid ground when you fell, but you sure bounced off enough hard objects to give your body a thorough beating."

Shepard frowned, a hand moving protectively over her ribs. "What?"

Garrus leaned forward on his stool, elbows on his knees, talons clasped together in-between. "That hole in the middle of the station, the one we were backed up against, the one you fell down… it dumps into empty space."

A vague notion of hanging weightless and suffocating flashed through Shepard's head and she gasped instinctively, then cried out, clenching her teeth.

Chakwas rested a hand lightly on her forearm. "Easy there."

"It seems you bounced off a few platforms, a few support structures, and fell right past the Fire Team's location," Garrus continued. "There was some kind of energy field at the bottom, separating the vacuum from the station's atmosphere, but you fell right through it. The Fire Team went after you. I'm told Grunt blasted a hole in the wall and Samara caught you with her biotics." The turian shook his head, sitting back. "Lucky, as humans say."

"Indeed," Chakwas added. "Had you hit solid ground from that height, not even your hardsuit would have saved you."

"Not lucky," Shepard rasped, the anger echoing through the heart monitor again, making her head ache. "Insubordinate crew."

Garrus shifted on his seat and Chakwas lifted another eyebrow.

"Joker," she growled.

"You are in no condition to dole out reprimands today, Commander," the doctor scolded. "All of that can wait. And besides, if it weren't for Joker, half this crew would be missing – vaporized along with the Collector station."

Elizabeth silently fumed, but already she could feel her body growing heavy, the fog of sedatives wrapping around her mind. She remembered the hyposyringe to her thigh with dismay. Chakwas knew her too damn well.

"Illusive Man," she slurred.

"Lawson has him under control for now," Chakwas assured her, tapping at her omni-tool again. "You just get some rest, Commander. You can give 'em all hell when you're healed."

* * *

Shepard stalked out of the med-bay three weeks later, still against doctor's orders, but even Chakwas knew when to pick her battles, and Shepard had made sure her particular narrow-eyed glare sent the message that she was about to stop asking politely and resort to physical violence. So, the doctor had relented at last, and Shepard was free to roam the ship.

Except she didn't roam. Like everything else in her life, she had a direction and purpose to each step. Having determined she could hold herself upright adequately enough to appear at length in front of an audience, she called all crew to the briefing room. Thankfully it had remained mostly intact; a missing ceiling panel exposed piping and spilled wayward power cables nearly down to the floor in the back left corner, but Engineers Daniels and Donnelly had made sure to bypass the damaged section so the room could be occupied without risk of being electrocuted. The doors had been rammed off their hinges by the impact of something large and heavy enough to leave an impressive dent in the metal, leaving only a narrow space through which to enter. It took four crewmen and Grunt himself to force the doors open wide enough to admit the krogan, and even then he barely fit.

Shepard took a seat while waiting for everyone to gather, tapping a finger restlessly against the table. She watched them as they arrived, every last one, squeezing through the damaged doors into the smallish room until all available space was full.

Anticipation hung thick in the air, crackling against her skin like Jack's biotics. The woman stood in the back right corner, and despite the tight confines of the room, had at least a foot of space around her on all sides. The crew closest to her looked extremely uncomfortable, but no more so than those forced to stand close to Grunt or Zaeed. Joker had slunk in behind Gardner, attempting to use the man's broad shoulders to hide his appearance. Shepard noticed the pilot expressly avoided her gaze.

She let them wait for a good long minute, listening to their breathing, the shifting feet, the rustle of uniforms.

Then, at last, she pushed herself to her feet. Drew a long, slow breath and exhaled. Straightened the shirt of her uniform. She cleared her throat.

"I know things have been a little uncertain these last few weeks," she began, "but the important thing is that we pulled off the impossible. We lived through the Omega 4 relay. We found the heart of Collector operations and we destroyed it. And we came back. Not without suffering," she added, glancing to Jack and then Tali, who had just recovered from her infection well enough to leave the sterile medical pod. "And not without loss." She dropped her eyes to the table briefly in acknowledgement of the crewmen who had given their lives attempting to protect the _Normandy_ from the Collector ambush. "But the sacrifices of Henniger, Sartre, Turner and Villagra were not in vain," she continued, lifting her eyes to look each person in the face as she spoke. "We have honored their memories with our actions. We have avenged their deaths. And all of you made that possible. _All_ of you."

She paused to let the words sink in. "You all did your part. And for that, I thank you." She looked especially long at those she had recruited from outside of Cerberus, who had helped her for whatever reason – money or friendship or to simply return a favor.

"But now our mission is done, and it's time to make a choice. Those of you who know me know that my alliance with Cerberus was one of necessity. I do not agree with the Illusive Man's policies, or many of the actions he has orchestrated both in the past and the present. Therefore, now that our mission is complete, I will be severing all ties with Cerberus."

A burst of murmurs erupted at the words. Shepard glanced to Miranda, standing against the wall with arms crossed. But the woman showed no reaction, her clear blue gaze remaining steady and unshuttered.

"I will be contacting the Alliance," Elizabeth announced, "and will be pursuing the possibility of once again joining their ranks. I am still a Spectre, and I still have the tenuous trust of Councilor Anderson and Admiral Hackett. I leave the choice up to you. You may stay with Cerberus, in which case I will drop you off at the nearest safe port. Or you may stay aboard and I will put in a good word for you with the Alliance and use my Spectre status to protect you from any persecution on their part. But I'm taking the ship. I suggest that no one try to stop me."

The murmuring grew louder. Kasumi smiled beneath her hood. Jack flared and hissed something about Cerberus bastards. Gardner complained that the Alliance didn't pay as well.

"I'll be contacting the Illusive Man at 1700 hours tomorrow to inform him of this arrangement," Shepard said, speaking loudly to be heard above the noise. "You have until then to make up your minds. Dismissed."

* * *

Joker attempted to busy himself with the _Normandy_'s systems, but considering Shepard had ordered they hold position in the asteroid belt of the Sahrabarik system until further notice, there really wasn't much for him to do. He never thought he'd be _wishing_ for some enemy to come flashing out of FTL on his port bow.

The ship was in quite a stir after Shepard's announcement at the debrief, and Joker was trying his best to stay the hell out of it. Heated conversations echoed up from the CIC and he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder now and then to make sure no one would be throwing anything – or any_one_ – in his general direction.

He wondered, and not for the first time, if Shepard had finally knocked a few too many screws loose in her latest dance with death. How many times could a person almost die… or, in her case, _actually_ die… before going a little loopy? He understood the principle behind her decision to leave Cerberus, sure. But she was also walking proof of the organization's tremendous reach and seemingly bottomless pockets. On top of that, his butt rested in the very comfy leather chair of a stealth frigate, the plans for which were supposed to have been top secret. And yet here it was.

He just wasn't sure stealing it from the Illusive Man was such a great idea. Especially since he had the distinct impression she wasn't going to do it nicely. So yeah, maybe he'd bet Gardner that Shepard would give the Illusive Man the finger at some point during this mission, and yeah, he'd probably win some money out of this, but he'd never thought Shepard would go so far as to give the Illusive Man the finger _and _steal his ship and his AI and even some of his people.

And then there was the fact that Shepard hadn't been around to see the Alliance's reaction to her death. Or how they had handled the unidentified ship that had attacked the _Normandy_. How the brass had pretended to listen to the crew's testimonies even as skepticism painted every line of their faces. How they had blamed him for the destruction of both the ship and Shepard. How they had mourned Shepard not for the person she was, but for the figurehead she was to their political maneuvering.

His jaw reflexively clenched, his fingers leafing through the displays too fast to even register the readings. The old anger roused again, burning hot.

If she really knew what had happened afterward, he doubted she'd be so anxious to jump back into the Alliance's arms. Not that he could really blame her for leaving Cerberus, though. He'd heard the stories, seen the scars – at least he had before the Lazarus Project erased them. So maybe Cerberus paid better, had better benefits, better ships, more resources and less red tape… but if he had gone through what Shepard had, would he still work for them?

Of course, if he had ever lost his entire unit to a thresher maw and bathed in blood, acid and mud for a week, he sure as hell would have never set foot on Tuchanka, much less voluntarily accompanied a tank-bred krogan to purposefully summon, fight, and kill one of the cursed things. That was a particular brand of crazy Joker could only attribute to the number of times Shepard had suffered a concussion. Or maybe it had to do with her implant. Maybe L2s _weren't_ the only crazy biotics out there…

EDI's smooth voice broke into his thoughts. "Jeff, you have checked the status of the lithium heat sinks twenty-seven times. They are functioning normally and well within the established safety parameters. I see no reason for your level of concern. Perhaps you would care to explain precisely what you are looking for?"

Joker blinked, the screen in front of him finally coming into focus, his hand still hovering. _Lithium heat sink performance measures. Huh. _ "Just making sure everything's in tip-top shape after our rough-and-tumble trip through the Omega 4 relay."

"Extensive repairs are needed in order for the ship to be in tip-top shape," EDI said. "It will be impossible to bring all systems up to one-hundred percent operating efficiency until we are able to dock and make such repairs. The hull breach in the cargo bay will likely require a dry-dock to repair proficiently. In addition, diagnostics show our Cyclonic Barrier Technology at twenty-two percent, kinetic barriers at forty-seven percent, fuel reserves at thirty-three percent, heat sink efficiency at sixty-eight percent, FTL drive at seventy-four percent –"

Joker sighed. "I just like to manually check them." Sometimes EDI was just too damn helpful. "Keeps me on my toes."

"I see. In this instance of high anxiety, your usual methods of distraction do not suffice."

Joker's eyes narrowed, his hands dropping into his lap. Sometimes EDI was just too damn…observant. "Well, let's see," he drawled, turning his chair to face her orb directly, "Shepard plans to go back to the Alliance, taking you and the _Normandy_ with her, meaning I get to decide whether I want to stay employed by a narcisstic, overzealous xenophobe who will shortly be quite pissed off… or whether I'd like to go crawling back to the assholes who grounded me in the first place and just hope I don't get thrown in prison for my ties to a terrorist organization. So no, the 'usual methods' aren't working for me right now."

There was a brief pause. "Yeoman Chambers has found that pictures of infant krogan are satisfactorily distracting to most of the crew."

Joker stared at her. "Infant krogan? There's… she found pictures of _baby_ krogans?"

"Yes. Would you like me to forward them to your omni-tool?"

He couldn't even imagine what the hulking, crested, chest-beating brutes looked like when tiny and helpless. Secretly, he didn't even think krogan actually _had _an infantile stage. "I…" He shook his head, shoving the curiosity away. "What? No! Seriously? People are going around looking at pictures of baby krogan right now?"

The avatar flickered. "Yes. I registered a marked decrease in your blood pressure, heartbeat, and internal body temperature during the eight point nine seconds you contemplated the subject. The yeoman's technique is quite effective."

Joker shook his head again, lifting his hat to swipe a hand through his hair. "How am I even having this conversation?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

Joker pushed himself up out of his chair. "Look, just… just run more diagnostics or something. I'm going to… go for a walk."

The bridge comm pinged, stopping him in his tracks.

Hell. He reached forward to open the channel, ignoring the dread that suddenly twisted in his stomach and forcing his voice to sound casual. "Commander?"

"Meet me in my quarters, please."

He winced. "Aye aye, Commander. Heading up." He flipped off his end, swearing. "Well, _this_ should be fun," he muttered. "Keep an eye on things, EDI. I'll be back… I hope."

Her glowing blue sphere watched him amble from the cockpit. "I will upload the yeoman's gathered pictures to your omni-tool," she said to his back.

Joker didn't even grace that with a reply.

He reached Shepard's door a few minutes later and took a few seconds to compose himself before knocking. Uniform relatively unrumpled. Check. Shirt and pants tucked. Check. Hat straight. Check. Deep breaths.

He'd been expecting this. Had gone through his defenses, rehearsed his speech. What mattered was that she had lived, and so had everyone else. He'd gotten them all out alive, _all _of them, and that's what counted. He didn't regret his decision. He'd known the minute Chakwas had told him Shepard was going to live, the moment he'd made it down to the med-bay and seen her for himself, battered but still _breathing_, known by the looks on the faces of the other crew at the announcement that she had awoken from her coma, he had done the right thing.

He knew it.

Strangely, his first thought upon seeing her lying prone on the medical bed was of Alenko. The stool next to her bed had been empty. It shouldn't have been empty. Alenko had always been there, each of the numerous times Shepard had landed herself in Chakwas' care… unless of course he had also danced a little too long with the devil and was incapacitated himself. Even in the beginning when they'd come up from Eden Prime with the unconscious Shepard draped over his shoulder, Alenko had been there, next to her, every spare minute.

Joker had felt strange taking the stool that day. Almost like he was passing through a ghost, only Alenko wasn't dead. He just… _wasn't here_.

Why the hell wasn't he here? What excuse could he possibly have not to be here right now?

Alenko would have been on his side, Joker knew. Alenko should have been in there right now, telling Shepard how her pilot had brilliantly managed to pull off the impossible.

But Alenko wasn't here.

Joker sighed, and lifted a hand to knock.

* * *

Shepard had datapads strewn all over her desk, trying to take stock of their current supplies, food and fuel and ammo, trying to calculate how long they could last on their own should the Alliance refuse to take her back. The thought brought on a creeping fear that ate deep into her nerves, burying into all the dark places of her mind, but she shoved it away like all things she didn't like, smothering it beneath an iron will to succeed, whatever happened.

But she didn't think they would turn her away. She had continued to feed them information on Cerberus throughout the Collector mission, and Admiral Hackett had even initiated contact himself in a few instances to ask for "unofficial" and "off the record" help in resolving a few sensitive situations. She had offered assistance despite the fact that doing so ate up valuable time and resources, for the sole reason that it might regain his full trust, and maybe even a favor or two later on.

A favor like coming to her defense when she wanted to come back after two years of – as far as most of the brass knew – going AWOL. She hoped the data she'd been able to send him about Project Lazarus would prove her story. Hoped everything else she had done in-between would be enough for them to overlook her involvement with Cerberus.

Even if their answer was no, she could not continue to work with the Illusive Man. She would not, under any circumstances. If the Alliance wouldn't have her back, she'd leave Cerberus anyway. And she couldn't let them keep the ship; it was far too dangerous. She wasn't entirely sure she could keep a stealth frigate running or even a small crew fed as a freelancer, but she'd try her damnedest. And if all else failed… she'd drop any remaining crew off somewhere safe and scuttle the ship.

A soft knock sounded at her door and Elizabeth shook herself from her thoughts. She'd almost forgotten she'd asked Joker to come up. She ran her hands through disheveled hair, still feeling as if she'd taken a krogan's battle-charge straight to the chest – without armor.

"Come in," she called. The gruffness of her voice surprised her and she cleared her throat. She spun her chair around as she heard the door open and watched as Joker entered and saluted, then stood at his best attention.

"You wanted to see me, Commander?"

She waited a moment, gathering her thoughts, then stood carefully from her chair. She walked slowly over to where he stood, just inside her door. She clasped her hands behind her back as she looked him square in the face. "Yes," she said flatly. "You broke your promise."

There was a brief hesitation, and then his hazel eyes shifted over to meet her stare. "With all due respect, Commander, I did not."

"And just how do you figure that?"

"I promised that I would abandon the ship, not that I would abandon you."

Shepard narrowed her gaze and would have crossed her arms if it wouldn't have hurt too much. Technically he spoke the truth, but that was just arguing semantics. He knew what she meant.

"You refused a direct order, Moreau," she snapped. "At a mission critical point. That is…" She scrubbed a hand over her face, struggling with how to convey to him exactly how furious she had been, how utterly disappointed. "That is _absolutely_ unacceptable."

Joker straightened his shoulders defiantly. "Oh I'm sorry, I was under the impression you left _me_ in command of the _Normandy_ when you and everyone else went gallivanting off into the jaws of death?"

Elizabeth took a step closer to him, speaking through her teeth. "Meaning _you_ were responsible for the rest of the crew! Your first priority should have been to get the most people out alive, not to –"

"I got _everyone_ out alive, thank you very much."

Her fists clenched. "Only by _endangering_ everyone at the same time, and that is unacceptable. Of all the selfish, irresponsible, misguided –"

"Selfish?" Joker scoffed. "_Selfish_? And how many times have you endangered yourself to save someone else, Commander? How many times have you kept us in a hot zone far past the time we should have been gone just to give Tali or Garrus or Kaidan time to get back? But I guess _you're_ the only one allowed to make those kinds of calls, huh? Anyone else does it and they're just being selfish and irresponsible!"

Shepard stared at him, the rush of anger choking her voice. She had never been so tempted to break him in half before.

"You think I was just trying to be a hero, Shepard?" Joker went on, his voice rough. "No. I tried that already, didn't I? And it didn't turn out so well. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not always just an arrogant asshole. The remaining crew agreed with me – stay and try to give you and the other ground teams enough time to make it aboard. EDI worked out a way to divert most power to the engines for a better speed burst and therefore a narrower minimum safe distance window. We still left before the deadline was reached." He spread his arms to the side. "Obviously, because we're all still alive. I wasn't being careless, Shepard. I _improvised_. And it _worked_." His arms dropped. "I saved your life. And Jack's, and Thane's, and Zaeed's and Grunt's and Samara's and even Lawson's. So you can be pissed off all you like, do whatever you want to me, but I did the right thing. I won't be sorry for it."

Shepard closed her mouth, still glaring. Her nails bit into the skin of her palms, her head throbbing with every slam of her heartbeat against her ribs. The base of her skull around her implant ached, the hairs on her arms prickling as her mutant neurons hummed.

The silence that hung between them was thick and oppressive. The ambient drone of the fish tank seemed obnoxiously loud, and Shepard swore she could _hear_ the buzz of her biotics. The field shimmered weakly above her skin, wisps of blue-black distortion flickering in and out of existence.

Joker glanced to it briefly, but then met her eyes again, and she read that stubborn resolve on his face that she both appreciated and despised. He did not back down.

At last she exhaled explosively, moving away from him to sink down into her desk chair. She threw up a hand. "I commend your original thinking, Mr. Moreau," she admitted reluctantly. "And your ability to improvise efficiently in the heat of battle. But you still refused a direct order. I'm revoking your extranet privileges until further notice. And you have lavatory duty for the next week."

"And what if I decide to stay with Cerberus?"

She tried to hide how much the question surprised her, keeping her gaze even and her voice measured as she replied. "Then I'll drop you off after you're done scrubbing toilets."

Another brief silence fell between them.

"That's all, Mr. Moreau." She didn't like the coldness in her voice.

He straightened. "Aye aye, ma'am." She felt her hackles rise again at the mocking formality of his tone. He snapped her a crisp salute, about-faced, and left the room.

In his absence her cabin felt even more desolate and empty. She turned back to the datapads, but no longer saw them. She wondered if Joker would really leave the _Normandy_ for Cerberus. They had been through so much together now… would he really leave _her_ for Cerberus? How many others that she had been sure would stay would actually be leaving, too?

Shepard sighed, leaning back in her chair and wondering if, at the end of it all, she would be all alone.


	21. Solo

**A/N:** I am so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter! Have had some really crazy real life drama going on which has messed with the writing schedule a bit, heh. But here is the final chapter at long last. Must throw out MANY THANKS to my beta Sinvraal, who helped me fix up this chapter quite a lot, and made it so much better! Also... please don't kill me for this one... I promise there is a plan! Heheh.

* * *

**Solo**

* * *

Beeping. Incessant beeping, somewhere far off.

Kaidan desperately tried to cling to sleep, but too late. The world of dreams pulled away, going distant and gray, and reality came into sharp awareness. Not that reality was too awfully terrible at the moment… the bed was soft, the covers warm, the room dark and cozy.

But the damn beeping wouldn't stop.

Kaidan groaned thickly, pulling his pillow up over his head and smashing it down over his ears. This was supposed to be his day off. Couldn't they leave him alone for one damn minute?

A body shifted next to him, her presence drawing his full attention as he realized how very long it had been since there had been any warmth on the other side of the bed. Smooth skin slid along his as she sidled closer, one long arm reaching over his side so the fingers could run across his chest. "Aren't you going to answer that?"

Kaidan pulled the pillow off his head and turned to look at her.

Rachel.

Memories of the night before floated back to him: the benefit gala for Grissom Academy, her brilliant speech on biotics, the way she had tactfully yet soundly put a turian political aide in his place after his quip about the instability of human biotic ability. Kaidan wrapped an arm around her, pulling her near, and closed his eyes. "It's my day off," he muttered.

She gave a snort. "Since when did you have days off?"

He sighed. "Good point." He reluctantly untangled himself from her and reached down to retrieve his omni-tool from the floor, where he had haphazardly tossed it the night before. Bleary-eyed, he activated the interface and vaguely recognized the caller's ID signature. Anderson. The man was still bent on revenge, it seemed. At least this time he had waited until a semi-decent hour to call. Six in the morning may have seemed early to some, but as far as Kaidan's sleeping habits were concerned, 0600 bordered on sleeping late.

He answered with a swipe of his finger. "Alenko here."

"Alenko, good. Sorry to bother you on your day off, but I'd like to see you in my office at your earliest convenience."

"Understood, sir. I can be there in half an hour."

"Excellent. See you then, Commander."

The councilor terminated the connection and Kaidan dropped his omni-tool back to the floor. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Do you think everything's okay?" Rachel asked quietly.

Kaidan sat up, glancing over to her. There had been a day when he would have bet that Anderson wanted nothing more than to discuss potential biotic special ops recruit options, but now… after what was going on with Shepard…. His stomach clenched. "I really don't know," he said at last. "But I guess I'm going to find out."

He threw back the covers and stood, moving around the room to retrieve the various articles of clothing he'd worn the day before. He supposed he'd have to go back to his place to retrieve some appropriate attire before heading to Anderson's office. The now-familiar stirrings of anxiety swirled in his gut despite his best efforts to suppress it. Six weeks since he'd gotten Shepard's message about going through the Omega 4 relay. Six weeks with no further word from her – or anyone else – regarding whether or not she had ever come back. He had done his best not to think about it, not to dwell or obsess. Had even avoided the news, just in case.

Shepard was the past. He'd hidden in the shadow of the past for almost two and a half years now. He'd finally began to see some light, crawling slowly out from under that long, oppressive shadow to get his life back, when Anderson had dropped that datapad with Shepard's picture on it into his lap. Shepard _alive_.

Yes, she was alive. But now she was gone again. And she was still the past. Six weeks of struggling again with the thought of losing her, and he had come to newly appreciate that glimmer of light he'd started to see months ago. That glimmer of light that made him feel alive again. That made him smile and laugh and think about something other than how much his heart hurt when he heard the name Shepard.

He'd worked so hard to carve out his little niche of peace… he wasn't sure he wanted any more news about Shepard, whether it was good or bad.

Kaidan felt Rachel's eyes on him as he dressed and a twinge of guilt churned through his racing thoughts. This probably wasn't the best way to start – or end – this particular morning after, but he wasn't exactly sure what else to do. Or say. The silence was already starting to curdle into awkwardness. Damnit. He was really bad at this sort of thing. _Really_ bad. Even that first morning with Shepard –

_Stop._

Kaidan shrugged into his shirt and turned to look at Rachel. She sat with covered knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, messy auburn hair cascading down her shoulders. He walked to the edge of the bed and sat down beside her.

"I'm sorry I have to go," he said.

She granted him a smile. "Don't be. I know how it goes." She caught his hand and kissed his palm. "Thanks for going with me to the gala last night. You held up pretty well after all."

A faint smile pulled at his lips. "It was… more fun than I expected. I thought there'd be more politics. Your ability to keep a room full of rich aristocrats in line is extremely impressive."

Her smile widened. "And who knew a straight-laced workaholic like you would know how to Waltz?"

He offered a little shrug. "It's been a long time… I wasn't really in top form…"

"Good enough for me," she said, leaning forward to peck him on the cheek. "It really meant a lot to the kids that you were there. I think you're probably the most famous human biotic out there right now, aside from Commander Shepard, of course… and did you see those girls swooning?" She grinned. "I thought I might have to beat them off with a stick by the time the night was over!"

A blush crept up his neck as he tried to think of a way to side-step the compliment. It was true he had certainly never lacked for dancing partners, whether they were young or old, women, men, or aliens. Nor for conversation partners, having been almost constantly surrounded by people eager to hear whatever he could tell them.

Rachel slid a little closer to him on the bed, catching a fistful of his shirt and pulling him into another kiss. "I'm just glad I was the one who got to take you home," she murmured against his lips.

The blush intensified, making his ears burn. It had been a very long time, and he had probably been a little too eager… but it had felt right nonetheless. Or at least it had at the time. Did it still feel right now? He wasn't entirely sure.

He cleared his throat, gently drawing away from her. "Thanks for letting me stay."

"Any time, Kaidan."

He swallowed hard. "Maybe… maybe we can meet up later today?"

She nodded. "Sure. Just call me."

"I will." He leaned forward to kiss her forehead, then stood to put on his boots and return his omni-tool to his wrist. He paused in the doorway of her room. "I'll… see you later."

She blew him a kiss. "Bye. Good luck at your meeting."

He gave her a nod. "Thanks." He needed all the luck he could get lately. He walked quickly to her front door and let himself out, then took the lift to the lobby and exited onto the always-bustling sidewalks of the Wards. He lost himself in the crowd, exhaling loudly.

_What in the hell are you _doing_, Alenko?_

He just didn't know anymore.

Every time he decided he wasn't going to take his relationship with Rachel any further, he took it one step further. And every time he dared to relax and think that maybe they had a chance to be together long-term, he would immediately freeze up and withdraw. Rachel hadn't yet seemed annoyed by his inconsistency, he wasn't even sure she had really noticed yet… if she had, she likely attributed it to long hours of work, exhaustion, stress, or some such other relatively normal cause. She hadn't yet figured out that he was just broken.

He had become quite good at hiding it.

Kaidan ran a hand through his hair as he hurried toward the nearest transit station. He didn't really have time right now for a self-psychoanalysis. He had work to do. Working had helped before… it would help now. He just had to focus. Focus on the present, and the past and the future be damned.

* * *

Kaidan stood in Councilor Anderson's office exactly thirty minutes later, dressed in uniform. He could have worn civilian clothes, but if there was one thing he'd learned – and learned well - over the years, it was that outward appearances always mattered. Especially if you were an L2. And so his hair was carefully combed, his uniform freshly ironed, his boots polished. He stood at parade rest in front of Anderson's desk, face calm and waiting, showing no sign of the emotional turmoil he'd struggled with on the way over. No one could have ever guessed, just by looking at him then, that he'd obliterated his apartment just weeks before in a biotic outburst the likes of which he hadn't summoned since Brain Camp and Vyrnnus.

No one had found out about that yet. And he planned to keep it that way. Somehow he had convinced the Requisitions Officer that the prolonged humidity of Horizon must have damaged his amp, causing it to short out during a routine biotic exercise. The man hadn't even questioned the explanation, hadn't even been suspicious. He'd just put in the order for a new one, and Kaidan had it a few days later.

Being a highly decorated – and highly trusted – Alliance officer had its perks.

His attention drifted back to the present as Anderson approached him with a datapad. "Thanks for coming, Alenko. I'm sorry I have to keep dragging you in here on such short notice."

"I understand, sir. You wouldn't ask unless it was important."

"You've got that right."

His tone made Kaidan's stomach roll. His feeling of foreboding only intensified as Anderson handed him the datapad and his eyes skimmed the contents. A Non-Disclosure Agreement. He looked up at the councilor, eyebrows raised. "Sir?"

Anderson gave a firm nod. "I need you to sign it, son. This is top-level stuff. Nothing we discuss here can leave this room."

Kaidan's mouth stuck open for a moment. "Sir… I… don't have top-level security clearance…"

Anderson waved the statement away. "It's in processing. Your signature there will suffice for the time being. You've also been recommended for early promotion for your actions above and beyond the call of duty on Horizon."

Kaidan's mouth hung open again. _If not for Shepard…_ "Sir," his voice sounded half-strangled, "I only did –"

"Don't try to be humble, Alenko," the other man interrupted. "That place was a shit-storm, and you weathered it better than most senior officers I know would have. You did good. Don't sell yourself short."

Kaidan closed his mouth and swallowed. "Yes sir."

Anderson glanced pointedly to the datapad and Kaidan brought his attention back to it as well, scrolling through the lengthy legal jargon. It seemed pretty standard. He finally reached the end of the document and pressed his right thumb into the indicated box. The device beeped in acknowledgement of a good print and a dialogue window appeared thanking him for his compliance. He handed the datapad back to Anderson, who promptly deposited it onto his desk.

"Now that's done, we can get to the reason I called you here in the first place." The councilor sighed heavily, straightening his shoulders and clasping his hands behind his back.

Kaidan braced himself.

"It's Shepard."

It was all he could do not to show a reaction, but inside his guts turned to water, every nerve suddenly burning. He remembered every damn word of the message she'd sent him, every nuance of her expression. She'd said they were going through the Omega 4 relay. Said they probably wouldn't come back. Said it was the end.

He silently begged Anderson not to say the words. If he just didn't hear the words, didn't watch the news, maybe he could just avoid it forever… live in the gray twilight of uncertainty and cling to the absurd and violent hope that she somehow made it back… anything but the certainty of knowing she was gone again – and this time gone without any chance of some kind of miraculous resurrection –

"She wants to rejoin the Alliance."

For a long while Kaidan didn't register what Anderson had said. He stared at the other man as his brain sluggishly came back from its panicked thoughts, slowly digesting the councilor's words.

Anderson didn't seem to notice his lack of response. "Her request has the brass in a fit, as you might imagine," he continued. "Those who served with her in the past are more inclined to trust her, especially given the data she's been constantly feeding us, which has been partially confirmed by our own operatives. But there are others who are not quite so quick to welcome her back, claiming that for all we know she could be an agent for the Illusive Man now."

Kaidan tried to breathe, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Shepard was requesting to come back to the Alliance. That meant she was alive. She was _alive_. She had made it back. Again it took a great deal of effort to keep the reaction off his face.

"And of course there are some who are still calling for her arrest as a traitor. But, she _is_ still a Spectre. They're having a hard time convincing anyone to actively go after her. This is why we need you, Alenko."

His heart skipped a beat. "Sir…"

To his relief, Anderson seemed to read his thoughts before he gave voice to them. "Don't worry, Commander, I'm not asking that you arrest her."

Kaidan exhaled quietly.

Anderson paced over to the window, gazing down on the Presidium. "We've tried to keep eyes on Shepard since she first reappeared," he explained. "Trying to follow her movements and ascertain her true motives. All data collected so far suggests that what she told us is true: she was only working with Cerberus to stop the Collectors. From what we can tell, she maintained only limited contact with the Illusive Man – so little, in fact, that we weren't even able to use her communications to track down his location. Since our spies caught sight of the _Normandy_ flashing back from the Omega relay, there have been no further reports of Collector activity. It seems her mission was successful."

Anderson turned from the window to look back at Kaidan again. "More significantly, Shepard has said she's severed all ties with Cerberus. We've been monitoring signals to and from the _Normandy_ and thus far, she seems to be telling the truth about that, too."

Kaidan's heart thundered in his ears, making it difficult to hear.

The councilor meandered back toward his desk. "Based on the gathered proof to date, we've convinced enough of the brass that she isn't a Cerberus agent to be able to hire her on as an independent contractor for now. Limited security clearance, of course, but at least she'll have some Alliance support. The _Normandy _was severely damaged. We've sent her to a port to dock and start repairs. But we need someone on the _inside_. That's where you come in."

_No. No no no, this isn't happening._

"You know her, Alenko. You'll be able to gauge her actions, understand her movements and detect any unusual behavior."

"Sir," he blurted, "with all due respect… it's been two years. A lot can change in that amount of time."

Anderson looked at him for a second, not comprehending. "You told me that when you met her on Horizon, you knew it was her and not just some fake?"

Kaidan swallowed hard, the collar of his uniform suddenly feeling much too tight. "Yes sir. But… the Shepard I thought I knew would have never worked for Cerberus. Her behavior isn't exactly in alignment with the Shepard I served under…"

Anderson shrugged, as if that didn't matter in the least. "Still, you would be able to tell if she's maintaining contact with the Illusive Man, and that's what we really need to know." He shook his head. "I'm a Councilor now, Alenko, I don't have the authority to handle this whole Shepard business. I'm turning it over to Hackett, and he and several others want _you_ on this. You'll be the Alliance liaison to Shepard while she's listed as a contractor. Report any suspicious behavior or communications to Hackett."

Kaidan's chest tightened. "I'm no spy, sir," he tried desperately. They couldn't ask him to do this… he couldn't go aboard that ghost of a ship, serve with the ghost of the woman he had loved, pretend like nothing had ever happened between them, look into her cold green eyes and remember that she had used to smile only for him…

"It's not spying," Anderson assured him. "Shepard knows the conditions of her contractor status; she knows she'll have an Alliance officer monitoring her and her ship."

"Sir…"

"You're the best one for the job, Alenko. Your history with Shepard gives you the advantage here. Concerns that you might become compromised after contacting her were put to rest on Horizon."

Kaidan blinked. He hadn't even known it had been a concern.

"Sorry, son. There is no one else."

_Breathe, Alenko. Just breathe…_ "Understood, sir."

"You'll still be able to manage the Biotics Division remotely. But we've got to put Shepard as a priority. If we can get her back…" Anderson sighed, shaking his head. "We need her back. Especially since the data she's most recently acquired looks to validate her claims that the Collectors were working with the Reapers. The Collectors were _building_ a Reaper from the looks of it. It's a goddamn nightmare."

The councilor walked around behind his desk and sank down into his chair. "We've got to sort this out. Convince the rest of the Council it's time to take this Reaper threat seriously. The numbers Shepard sent back don't look good. We've got to be proactive on this. And it's not going to be easy." He steepled his fingers, looking over his hands to fix Kaidan with a serious stare. "I need your help, Alenko. I need you in there with Shepard, finding proof we can trust her."

_I don't even know if _I_ trust her…_ "Of course, sir."

"Hackett's got her slated for some covert op at the moment, but as soon as she returns, we'll arrange your transport to the _Normandy_."

The _Normandy_. The room became suddenly claustrophobic, stifling, as if he'd been wrapped in a wet blanket. _Don't lose it, Alenko. Keep it together._ "Yes sir." The response was automatic, robotic, ingrained into his brain – the only response he could manage at the moment. Something simple and routine, lacking emotion or any true thought. That was the key, he knew – not thinking. If he could just keep his mind shut off, keep it from running through the myriad of terrible conversations and situations that might occur should he and Shepard be forced aboard the same ship again –

"That's all for today, Commander. I know it's a lot to drop on you, but we've got to get this resolved asap. Remember your NDA. Your security clearance should be coming in shortly. You'll know when it gets here. And Commander… good luck."

Somehow Kaidan managed a stiff nod. "Thank you, sir." A strange feeling of déjà vu crept over him, reminding him unpleasantly of the last time he'd been in Anderson's office. He would never forget that morning, either. He turned and exited the councilor's office, striding down the gleaming halls of the Embassy without feeling his feet on the floor. His body seemed to have melted away, his tangled mind left alone and trapped in a narrow box.

He kept walking. Walking and walking, without seeing, without thinking. Walking as if he could somehow get away, if he just went far enough.

* * *

"We don't like this, you know."

Shepard finished rummaging through the duffel she'd tossed to the floor of the Kodiak and pulled her top half back out of the shuttle, glancing over her shoulder to give her pilot a look. He was framed on either side by Garrus, Jack, and Miranda, arms crossed, hazel eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his hat. She was struck for a moment at the irony that all four of them should come together on this, given the rocky past relationships of Lawson and Joker, Jack and Garrus, Jack and Lawson.

"I didn't risk the ship and clean all those toilets just so you could turn around and go skulking off on some hare-brained, idiotic, impossible _solo_ mission in the heart of batarian space," Joker growled.

Shepard sighed quietly. "I know. And you did such an excellent job on those toilets I'll be recommending you for a commendation."

Joker scowled and Jack snickered.

"We could arrange for a secondary team," Garrus suggested carefully, far more diplomatic in his opinion than Joker. "Follow only at extreme range, move in only if necessary."

Shepard shook her head. "We can't risk the exposure. If they find me and then a team moves in… our cover is blown just as surely as if we'd led in a full Alliance company."

"If they find you, you'll be no better off than Dr. Kenson," Miranda remarked dryly. "And then what?"

"You don't owe the Alliance anything, Shepard," Joker put in hotly. "You already died for them once."

She looked at them in silence for a moment, touched by their concern despite the frustration that welled within her at their inability to see the bigger picture. She was too tired to argue… still not one-hundred percent. Still not fully healed. But she was a soldier, an N7, a Spectre. She got things done. She didn't sit in a damaged ship and watch repairs if there was a scientist who might have intel on the Reaper invasion to save.

"You're right," she said softly, her voice nearly swallowed by the cavernous space of the shuttle bay. To her right, the hole in the hull still gaped, a window to the arm of the dock which embraced them and the starry blackness of space beyond. "But if I find Dr. Kenson, I might find hard proof of a Reaper invasion. Enough to convince the Council to get their heads out of the sand. This one mission could help save us all. So I'm going."

She turned to check her supplies one last time, but Garrus stepped forward.

"Shepard," he started, then hesitated. "At least… at least take someone else. One person. Someone to watch your back. Two people would be no worse than one if discovered."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, blue crackling around her clenched fists. "Take me. I'm worth five times these other clowns in a fight."

"And five times more likely to get her killed with your showy biotics," Miranda drawled.

Jack whirled to face the other woman, the blue spreading like fire to engulf her whole body. "Shut it, Cheerleader," she snapped.

"Enough," Shepard barked, the single word echoing against the walls. The four of them looked back to her, Joker from his new position far removed from Jack, near a stack of supply crates pushed against the left wall. She stared them all down one at a time, feeling abruptly entirely too exhausted to take on a batarian prison break-out.

She tried to push such thoughts away, down beneath Duty and Responsibility and the Iron Will that had carried her this far. Her gaze rested on Garrus longer than the others. His deep blue eyes held hers, standing firm beneath her scrutiny. For a terrible long moment she was tempted to accept his offer. She could trust him. He was a tactical genius, an expert sniper, a loyal soldier. Level-headed and rational, he was exactly the kind of assistance she could use on a mission like this.

Her mouth opened, then closed. But finally, she shook her head. "Hackett asked that I go in alone. He wouldn't have asked such a thing if it weren't for good reason." She tore herself from Garrus' gaze, turning back to her supplies. "I'll keep it quiet. Everything will be fine. You all just make sure the _Normandy_ is taken care of in my absence."

Joker snorted derisively, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes, muttering something about how she was always rushing off to die. Jack began pacing a small circle, complaining about never getting to see any action. Miranda and Garrus simply watched her silently.

They were all still waiting when she had finished organizing and once again emerged from the shuttle. "Garrus is in charge while I'm gone," she reminded them, despite the fact she'd already conducted a ship-wide brief of the situation. One could never be too careful, especially with Jack around. "I'll contact you once I have Dr. Kenson."

"Good luck, Shepard," Miranda said quietly.

"And be careful," Garrus added, his mandibles twitching. A talon reached forward, touching her lightly on the forearm, then withdrew. She was reminded of the touch on her hand in the medbay, when she had still been half-unconscious, and the barest of smiles pulled at her lips. The turian looked like he had more to say, but in the end he just stepped back, nodding. "Just… be careful."

"I'll try not to be too long," she said, forcing her voice to be casual and light. "See you on the other side." She tossed them a salute, which they somberly returned – except for Jack, who never saluted anyone. Shepard turned her back on them, an action that made her feel strangely ill, and climbed inside the shuttle, alone.

All of this felt wrong. She hit the button to close the Kodiak's door anyway.

Everyone left aboard the _Normandy_ had put themselves at risk to follow her. They had given up jobs or careers in Cerberus to take a gamble with her. They had braved the Illusive Man's ire and possible retaliation, accepted the possibility of questioning and suspicion from the Alliance, all because they trusted her. They believed in her plan for them and the fight against the Reapers. They had faith in her ability to protect them from harm on both the Cerberus and Alliance side.

She was a Spectre, after all. But she was also just a human, and lately Shepard had felt far more human than she would have liked, spread too thin and stretched too far.

If not for those who had stayed, who had helped keep her sane and on her feet… Garrus, Joker, Chakwas… even Miranda and Jack and Thane and Grunt… she wasn't sure she would have decided to wake up after the Collector mission.

And now she was leaving them all behind. Going solo. No support, no backup. It felt like a betrayal to everything her crew had been through together. The doubts snaked through her gut and clamped down around her heart. It had been so long since she'd gone solo… so long since she hadn't had eyes on every side, a mix of talents to match any possible combat scenario… so long since she'd had nothing to rely on except herself…

_You can do this. You _have_ to do this._

Soldier. N7. Spectre.

_You _will_ do this. You can get proof. They won't be able to ignore you anymore. You can save everyone… _

Kaidan's face flashed through her mind, making her heart clench, but she shoved such thoughts away resolutely. Now was not the time for that. She took a deep breath, powering up the Kodiak's engines, and keyed the comm. "Kodiak 1, requesting takeoff clearance."

EDI's voice came through immediately; likely Joker was still making his way back to the cockpit, scowling the whole way. "_Normandy_ to Kodiak 1, you are clear for takeoff."

"Roger that. Heading out."

The shuttle lifted off the ground as the bay doors slowly parted. She had eased the small aircraft out from the belly of the _Normandy_ and was plotting the course that would rendezvous her with the civilian vessel heading to Aratoht when her comm pinged.

She opened the channel only to hear Joker come through. "You know, if things go south and you need an evac – a _real_ evac – you call me. I'll have this bird there in five minutes flat, guns blazing; I'll make a crater out of that damn prison, okay?"

Another smile twitched her mouth despite herself. "Joker… that would negate the whole point of me going in alone. We're supposed to keep this _quiet_, remember? Not start making new craters."

"I'm just saying… we've got your back, Shepard."

The smile blossomed this time. "Thanks, Joker." She reached forward to sign off, but then stopped. "Joker?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for staying. Really."

The pilot grunted dismissively. "Hey, you were gonna keep the ship, what else was I supposed to do? There's no Joker without the _Normandy_."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the love."

"Likewise, Commander. Now every time I stare into a toilet bowl, I think of you."

"Charming."

"Just come back to us in one piece, okay? I'd hate to have to come save your ass yet _again_."

"You got it, Joker."

"Good. _Normandy_ out."

Shepard signed off and leaned back in her chair, sighing heavily. She turned to look out the shuttle's small viewport, her eyes locking on the ever-diminishing shape of the _Normandy_ in the distance. She remembered the first time she had seen the SR-1, back when she had been Anderson's XO. And the first time she had seen the SR-2, after having been freshly resurrected. Two subtly different ships, two completely different lives - almost literally. But through it all, the _Normandy_ and its crew had been her backbone.

And now, as she left them all behind, even with the yellow and black Cerberus paint still adorning the hull, she knew with certainty that that ship was home.

She had to make sure she made it back.

* * *

**THE END.**

* * *

**Thank you so very much to everyone who has read and reviewed, and followed this story since the beginning. I really really appreciate your time and attention and enthusiasm, it really keeps me going even when real life tries to keep me away from writing! Thank you so very much also to my beta Sinvraal, who has helped me out more times than I could count with all of these ME fics. I will be posting a Mass Effect Big Bang fic in October, and have already started a ME3 fic to conclude Kaidan and Elizabeth's story, which will be posting shortly. (After I finally conclude my LOTR story "The Wall that Fell", that is! :P) Thank you again to everyone! ^_^**


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